Blind Before the Looking Glass
by Manita
Summary: Sequel to A Darker Shade of Pale. Ichigo's been having nightmares about all the people he couldn't save. His tolerance of life in Soul Society is wearing thin, and he sees injustice everywhere he turns. Are Byakuya and Renji his enemies or allies in this? And what of the mysterious Aizen and the zanpakutō no one else believes exists? Byakuya/Renji/Ichigo
1. Welcome to Sunny Seireitei

**[****Sequel to A Darker Shade of Pale, and I think you do need to have read it for this to really make sense. This is the second of what will be a 'four part trilogy' (nods to Douglas Adams), and definitely the Empire Strikes Back instalment of the series.**

**Also, please note, this is a dark verse. I will included specific warnings in notes at the beginning of chapters for certain events.**

**Massive thanks go out to Junko for going above and beyond the call of duty with this story. She's been my beta, my sounding board and my cheerleader for months. I am not worthy. Also to my better half, for sitting and listening as I read this monster to her and argued every point of grammar and plot she felt worth arguing about. Believe when I say, without these two, you wouldn't have had anything to read.**

**Thank you.]**

There were hundreds of them; rank upon crowded rank. Men, women, small kids, some in shihakushō, others wearing colourful kimono, more still dressed in rags and cast-offs. And in amongst them lurked other things, creatures that were neither human nor shinigami but had souls nonetheless.

And all of them were staring at _him_.

Plaintive expressions, open hopeful eyes, their extended hands, begging and pleading for him to do something, anything. And behind them, from the dust of the arena, rose the oncoming roar of something that would tear every one of them apart.

Ichigo woke with a gasping jerk and rolled upright to sit blinking at his knees, panting heavily.

A dream. Another freaking dream. And this one had been a doozy.

His shudder at the lingering touch of all those eyes turned into a shiver as sweat-wet silk over his shoulders lost heat to the late autumn chill. The bed was empty; there was no sign of either Byakuya or Renji, though when he ran a hand under the covers, they were still warm. Byakuya must have just got up. He'd be finding Renji to relieve him, which meant Ichigo could expect company again any time soon. He wasn't sure he wanted it, from either of them. What he really wanted was a bottle of soda, and some time off the estate and alone to gather his thoughts, but good luck finding either of those things around here.

Scrubbing his hands through his hair to try and shift a sudden pang of homesickness, he grabbed his tabi and slipped them on before shoving the quilts back. Doing it that way round was the only way to keep his feet warm, he'd discovered. Winter in Soul Society was going to suck, especially for someone like him who was used to modern houses. But Ichigo guessed he'd survive it, like he'd survived everything else this place had thrown at him so far.

"Bad dream again?"

"Eh?" Ichigo glanced round to see Renji entering the bedroom, already shedding his shihakushō. Damn it, he'd been hoping to escape before Renji got back. Ichigo shrugged a shoulder with as much nonchalance as he could muster, and might as well not of bothered. For a guy who could be denser than a concrete block, Renji was way too perceptive, especially when Ichigo didn't want him to be.

This time it came in the form of a tackle that knocked Ichigo flat. He thrashed instinctively but Renji's bear hug just tightened around him until Ichigo gave up fighting and subsided with an irritated huff.

Actually, being held like this, with strong arms pressing him tight against a big solid body and a chin resting atop his head, wasn't so bad. It took him back to just after mom died when Ichigo had been plagued by nightmares. Back then, when he'd woken up crying, his dad would join him on the bed, tuck him in tight like this and say-

"Wanna talk about it?"

"No." The reply came out in much the same way as had all those years ago. Small and resentful, but with an edge of 'make me, please'.

"Taichō used to do this," was Renji's riposte. "When I first came here, I had some real nasty dreams."

Ichigo didn't know much about how Renji had come to serve Byakuya. All he'd said about it was that Kurotsuchi had been after him for his labs and that Byakuya had saved his life. Still that was enough to give Ichigo nightmares, so Renji'd probably been the same.

"Did it help?" Ichigo asked. The warmth from Renji's body seeped through the cloth between them and he found he was relaxing into it.

He felt Renji nod and then Renji said, "Yeah, some. I think time's the best healer though and that's something you shouldn't be short of here."

That was true. As Ichigo understood it, if he was careful, he could still be alive in thousands of years. Whether or not he'd want to be was another question. He couldn't even begin to fathom what it must be like for some of the older shinigami, watching friends die and being left behind again and again. It had been bad enough losing his mom and Chad, and then Uncle Ryūken and Uryū just last year. At least this time he'd got to go with his family when they'd went.

Course, that was part of the problem.

"Was it the challenges again?" Renji asked after a moment or two, and when Ichigo didn't answer him immediately, his chin started digging into the top of Ichigo's head.

Ichigo kicked him to make him stop, though he did deign to answer. "Yeah, that and Kira waltzing off with Yuzu."

Renji stiffened at his words and Ichigo elbowed him gently, knowing Renji still blamed himself for the breach in security. "Wasn't your fault, dumb ass. He's your friend, you had no reason to suspect him. And you said yourself he was only doing what his captain told him to do. Plus it was my fault he got the order in the first place."

"I still shouldn't have trusted him."

Which was probably true and just went to show what a fucked up place Soul Society was. "So let's call it even." Ichigo huffed, "And anyway it wasn't that bit that woke me up." He was so used to reliving that day, it was almost routine by now. It was the last bit of the dream that had been new, and Ichigo even knew why he'd had it.

Performance anxiety, simple as that.

"Tomorrow?" Renji asked, doing his annoying psychic thing again.

Ichigo nodded. It had to be tomorrow. Because tomorrow Ichigo got officially installed as the 23rd head of the Shiba clan.

* * *

"Now you're just screwing with me." Ichigo held up his hands, which were covered by a heavy fall of golden silk, just like they had been at the last fitting session. His feet were no better. The legs of the hakama were way longer than they needed to be. At least they were in plain black, though he still felt like a small kid playing dress up in his dad's clothes. Or actually his mom's since he'd never seen his dad is anything other than shirts and pants.

"Screwing with you, my lord?" The tailor, a small guy with a neat pencil moustache and a tendency repeat everything that was said to him, glanced up from the pile of black and red fabric he was working on. More layers, Ichigo guessed.

"You said you were gonna cut some of this off." He waved a sleeve, the extra fabric flapping uselessly beyond the tips of his fingers.

"Yes, my lord, cut some off." The tailor bowed and turned back to his work.

Ichigo stared at him in a mixture of disbelief and confusion. That was exactly what the guy had done the last time Ichigo had asked, and Ichigo had, stupidly as it turned out, assumed he was going to make the changes later. Only now it was later. He was supposed to be wearing this get-up in three hours, the freaking sleeves were still too long, and if he tried walking in these hakama, he'd end up falling flat on his face in front of the whole of freaking Seireitei.

But no matter how hard Ichigo glared at him, the tailor made no move towards putting the clothing right. He didn't ask his assistant to do it either. Ichigo glanced at the blond woman fiddling with something behind him and wondered briefly if she'd do it if he asked. Probably not. Every time he'd tried to speak to her so far she'd just got quieter and even more nervous, so now he was just ignoring her.

He turned his attention back to the tailor and stated the obvious. "You're not gonna do it, are you?"

"My lord?"

Was that a hint of irritation Ichigo saw in the man's passive demeanour? On the off chance it was, he poked it. "I said you've got no intention of fixing the sleeves on this thing, even if I ask you to."

"Ask me to... ?" A slight frown wrinkled the tailor's forehead. "Yes, my lord. The design is very complimentary to my lord's build and colouring, and most suitable for the occasion."

Okay, now he was starting to get annoyed. Which of them was supposed to be the clan-head anyway? "Screw suitable, I want to be able to walk."

Another bow, this one much lower. "It is a skill I am sure my lord will quickly acquire."

"Fuck that! My lord learnt to walk freaking years ago and doesn't need to learn a second time!"

"Yes, my lord."

"Argh!" Ichigo's frustration hit explosion point. He couldn't stay here, not if he didn't want to end up punching the tailor. Hiking up the legs of the hakama, he clambered down off the little platform and made a break for the outside world, every other step an awkward sort of hop as his feet got tangled in the cloth.

The tailor made a panicked little squeaking sound and lunged for him, stopping short at the last moment with a horrified expression on his face as if realising who he'd almost laid hands on. Ichigo smirked at him, enjoying the sudden turn round in their relationship, and bolted off down the corridor.

He was in the manor house proper, rather than Byakuya's quarters, and the place was a sprawling maze of rooms and interlinked buildings, with multiple levels and interior walls that moved on an almost daily basis. Especially on days when the manor was hosting the investment of a new clan head, even if it wasn't their own. Today the whole place was alive with servants bustling from one job to another, humping huge baskets of food and textiles and chests containing who knew what. Ichigo dodged between them, the tailor in hot pursuit still squeaking and gesturing for Ichigo to come back.

Ichigo had no intention of doing any such thing. It was bad enough having to go through with this dumb charade without having to wear clothes that'd make him look like an idiot in front of everyone. It wasn't like Shiba was his actual name, or that he had any connection with any of this clan stuff beyond being his dad's son.

Plus it turned out the clan was pretty much defunct anyway. It had one other member, no money, no property worth speaking of, and its reputation was shot to hell. It was a bit like being handed the keys to a Ferrari only to be told it had four flats and no engine. And it was going to be up to him to fix it.

He couldn't fix it! He didn't know how. He didn't even know where to start.

The rooms around him began to merge together; he'd stepped into shunpo to escape the seething masses. The tailor was left far behind and Ichigo didn't give a damn. He needed to be _away_, just from everyone and everything. Just for a minute or two to clear his head.

He shunpo'd again, and this time it took him outside the main building. Another and he was beyond the courtyard. Freedom beckoned, the chill of the autumn air redolent of lazy weekends shooting the breeze with Chad or sparring with Tatsuki.

Hakama hiked up, he headed in clumsy fits and starts for the small woodland that lay at the far end of the manor grounds and from there jumped the wall. Byakuya was going to be mad with him. He wasn't supposed to leave without a guard but surely it wouldn't harm just this once. In any case, he didn't go far. A graveyard butted up against the wall at this point and in the centre was a small shrine. It seemed like the perfect place to try and find that peace of mind he was searching for.

Avoiding the dark interior, he made himself comfortable on the ground behind the shrine, leaning up against its smooth stone wall and rested his head on his raised knees. He was being selfish and juvenile, he knew, but he couldn't help it. This whole thing was bringing back memories.

While he was growing up, family had been central to Ichigo's life. And not just his parents or his baby sisters. For as long as he could remember there'd been his uncle and his cousin, as well. He might have thought uncle Ryūken was a cold fish and spent more time fighting with Uryū than he did talking, but they'd been family. And now they were all gone. Run through his fingers like sand from a child's fist beneath an unforgiving wave. No matter how hard he tried to hang on, they always slipped away.

And now he was being told he had a new family. The Shiba.

He'd had met his cousins, Ganju and Kūkaku. As scary insane people went, they were okay, but he didn't know them. Didn't want to know them. They weren't _family._ Was it so selfish of him to want his real family around him and not these strangers he was being told he had to care about.

"Ah, I do apologise. I didn't realise anyone else was here."

Ichigo started at the quietly spoken words, and looked up into heavy-lidded brown eyes. They belonged to a tall guy with dark swept back hair in a style that left a single lock falling across his face. He was standing at the corner of the shrine, his black shihakushō allowing him to fade into the shadows.

Ichigo scrambled to his feet, forgetting he was wearing stupid too-long hakama, and stumbled, an undignified nose-plant imminent. A strong hand caught him under the arm, stopping him falling too far, and he grabbed it gratefully, allowing himself to be tugged upright.

The guy was taller than him. Not as tall as Renji, but taller than Byakuya, and built. There was a slightly amused tilt to his lips that told Ichigo he was trying not to laugh. It made him seem very human and Ichigo felt himself flush.

"Thanks," he said, pulling himself free as soon as he found his feet. "I'm not normally that clumsy, it's these dumb hakama..." His voice trailed off. The guy was staring at him as though he'd done something amazing. Ichigo checked behind himself to see if there was anyone else around who might merit such an expression, and when there wasn't, turned back to introduce himself.

"Third Seat Kurosaki Ichigo," he said, dipping a shallow bow. "6th division."

"Fukutaichō of the 1st, but you can call me Sōsuke."

Was that name familiar? Ichigo was certain they'd never met because he would have remembered it if they had. If the past few months had taught him anything, it was a new appreciation of the male form, and this one was definitely worth appreciating.

Sōsuke was still speaking. "I'm very pleased to meet you, Ichigo-kun." There was no bow to go with his introduction, though Ichigo guessed he shouldn't expect it from a lieutenant. There was no real reason this guy should know he was a clan head. Or would be one after the 'thing' happened this afternoon.

Speaking of... Ichigo glanced up at the sky, caught a glimpse of the sun and did a quick guesstimate of the time. "Fuck! I am so late!"

Sōsuke's eyes widened at the curse and Ichigo could have kicked himself. Way to make a good impression, he thought miserably. "Look," he said, "I've gotta go. There's this thing and I'm kinda the whole reason for it happening, but um..." He wanted to suggest they went out for a drink, but that wasn't how things worked in Soul Society, and even if it was Ichigo wasn't sure he'd actually be able to force the words out of his mouth. And even if he could, why would the guy say yes? It wasn't like they knew each other or anything.

"Before you go," Sōsuke said, "There's something I'd like to show you."

His hand gripped the hilt of his zanpakutō and Ichigo was suddenly, painfully, aware that he was completely unarmed. Zangetsu was back in the main house and, dressed like this, his hakuda would be for shit. Even so, he took a wary step back, only for Sōsuke to pause. A second later his face hardened and twisted and the gaze he levelled at Ichigo made his blood run like ice.

"Your protectors have arrived. No matter. Another time perhaps." Sōsuke raised his hand and Ichigo could feel the slight build of reiatsu. Kidō. Crap, he had nothing to counter a kidō, except...

Ichigo raised his own hand, preparing to absorb the power if he possibly could -

- and woke up staring into Renji's very annoyed looking face.

"What the hell are you doing out here?" Renji asked.

Ichigo blinked and looked around. He was out the back of the small shrine in the graveyard. "Crap! I musta fallen asleep!" He scrambled to his feet, almost nose-diving when his feet got tangled in the stupid too-long hakama. A strong hand caught him under the arm and he grabbed onto Renji's shihakushō to drag himself upright.

As Renji steadied him, Ichigo was hit with the strongest sense of deja vu, followed by something that was more like mortal terror crossed with stomach flu. His skin crawled, goose bumps sprang up all over him and a bone-deep shudder worked its way from his spine to his fingertips. "Urgh," he groaned, as the nausea hit. "Gonna puke."

"Then do it that way."

Renji spun him round and hung on to the back of his hakama as Ichigo heaved and retched for what felt like forever into the grass. It wasn't and he didn't lose much, but by the time he was finished, he was still shaky like he'd eaten something that really disagreed with him.

"You okay?" Renji asked, all traces of his previous annoyance gone.

Ichigo made a note of it. Apparently throwing up made Renji forget he was mad at you. "Will be," he muttered, staggering a few feet away and sinking onto his knees. "How long have I been gone?"

"Over an hour," Renji replied, following him and hunkering down to press the back of his hand to Ichigo's forehead. "You don't feel hot. What'd you have for breakfast?"

"Eh..." Ichigo racked his brain trying to remember. He couldn't. His mind felt like it'd been through a mincer. "No idea. Possibly nothing."

"That'll be it then," Renji said with a sound of satisfaction. "Let's go. Get something solid inside you."

His smack on Ichigo's shoulder as he stood up almost knocked Ichigo over again. And when he put two and two together and made a whole lot of trouble in his immediate future, Ichigo almost didn't bother to save himself. "Byakuya sent you, didn't he." It wasn't a question. He already knew the answer.

"Oh yeah," Renji smirked down at him.

Ichigo winced. "How much trouble am I in?"

Renji's smirk widened for a second, then he pursed his lips and made a performance out of considering the question. "When I left," he said finally, "he had three members of Central 46 and the Head Captain with him, all of them expecting to have a personal audience with you before the main event."

"Oh shit. I am so dead." In the face of overwhelming odds, Ichigo gave up and sagged to the ground. The grass was cool against his cheek. It was nice. Maybe he could stay here and become a shrine attendant. It had to be an easier life that the one he was living.

"Oi! None of that now." Laughter laced Renji's voice, and Ichigo found himself dragged upright again. "Can you walk in those things?"

"No." Which was where this whole stupid thing had started. Ichigo cast a mournful look up at Renji and said, "Can you make him cut them shorter?"

It turned out the man with the magic words to control the tailor was Byakuya, of course. He took one look at the length of Ichigo's hakama and ordered them shortened. Not by having them cut. No, that would have been far too logical. Instead they'd had extras ties added on the inside so now Ichigo looked like a renegade from the set of Aladdin. But at least he could walk.

Which was helpful for getting up on the stage at the front of the huge room, but not so much for all the stuff that came afterwards. In his briefing, Byakuya had called this first part 'introductions', explaining that it was a chance for everyone who was anyone to see the new Shiba clan-head close to with their own eyes. A never-ending procession of names and faces he didn't have a hope in hell of remembering, was a more accurate description to Ichigo's mind. He'd been sat here for going on an hour now, and all he had to show for it was numb feet and sore knees.

The chilly silence emanating from the space behind his left shoulder reminded him he wasn't alone in his suffering. Karin, dressed up in clothing even stupider than his own and wearing make-up that made her look like a doll, was with him on the stage, mimicking to the exact degree each bow Ichigo made. And it was taking all of Ichigo's focus not to make an ass of himself. Thankfully he had Renji as back up. Each time a new face was presented, Renji, stood to one side of the stage and hidden from direct view, flicked up fingers to indicate how low Ichigo should go, with one being a simple nod and three for a deeper bow reserved for the older members of the other First families.

After the introductions came the gifts. Every guest had brought at least one and each had to be presented and appreciated properly. Ganju, on his best behaviour and acting as aide de camp for the day, was doing all the donkey work, fetching and carrying and holding the gifts, but Ichigo still had to pay attention. Not easy when he couldn't care less about the stuff he was getting. There was a subtlety to the choice of gifts that was completely beyond him, though Byakuya was bound to explain it all later. Probably in agonising detail.

Currently Ichigo was being shown the ugliest vase he'd ever seen in his life while the little guy who'd brought it nattered on about firing techniques and something called slip. Since the guy was a Suehisa and older than the hills he'd dug the clay out of and thus merited some level of respect, Ichigo fixed a polite expression on his face before half closing his eyes and letting his gaze drift around the room.

The guards drew his attention first. Stationed every few paces along the walls, some were in the colours of visiting clans, but most wore Shiba black and red, their uniforms printed with the same mon as the one dyed into Ichigo's ceremonial clothing. They were his personal guards, and though for the time being they would live and work alongside the Kuchiki retainers, he was responsible for their upkeep and equipment. Seeing the swords each of them carried, the lack of Zangetsu at his own side felt like a gaping void.

In theory, the guards were there to protect the audience, who sat serenely in elegant rows, each on their own cushion, looking as bored as Ichigo felt. But considering who half of them were, if anyone tried anything, Ichigo thought it was more likely the guests would end up protecting the guards rather than the other way around.

The guests themselves were seated according to a complicated plan drawn up by Byakuya's steward. He'd tried explaining it to Ichigo but had finally given up when it became obvious to both of them that, as far as the finer points of etiquette went, Ichigo was a lost cause. All Ichigo remembered was that the important people, the ones who would be his equal in rank, if not seniority, by the end of the day, sat at the front; Byakuya, Yoruichi-sama, Kyōraku-taichō in his other role as clan-head, and a wizened old lady who was the matriarch of the reclusive Towa clan. Behind them were the lesser families, each placed in accordance to their affiliation and seniority, and right at the back, separate from the nobles, sat the witnesses from Central 46 and the Gotei 13; three senior judges and the Head Captain himself.

And sat behind Yamamoto-sōtaicho, was a face that Ichigo couldn't help feeling he'd seen somewhere before. Dark haired and good-looking, the guy was wearing a shihakushō, so he hadn't been one of those formally presented earlier, and he certainly wasn't from the 6th because Ichigo would have remembered him. That lock of hair was pretty distinctive, after all. So where did he know him from?

A faint tickle of a memory worried at the edges of Ichigo's mind. A name. Sōsuke?

As though feeling Ichigo's eyes on him, the man looked up. Their gazes met and held for several moments with neither of them flinching, and then the man smiled, open and friendly. A chill crept up Ichigo's spine. His gut churned and he got the weirdest feeling that he knew exactly how this guy tasted. It was such a bizarre thought that it almost made him laugh. He covered it with a cough and when he looked back up, the man was gone, as though he'd never even been there.

* * *

The final stage of the ceremony, after all the introductions and the gifts and the speeches, was the investiture itself which, it turned out was a simple matter of Ichigo picking a tanto up from a cushion and sticking it through his obi. That no one told him he couldn't, or tried to fight him for it, made him head of the Shiba clan. When Byakuya had told him what he'd have to do, Ichigo had thought it'd be a bit of a let down, but when it actually came to it, he found himself surprisingly moved.

Ganju, as the only other male member of the clan, carried the tanto out and laid it in front of Ichigo. In contrast to its tasselled silk cushion, the sword itself was plain and so old that it bordered on ancient. The dyed leather of the sheath was starting to crack and the bindings on the hilt were stained and worn to threads in places.

Ichigo stared down at it, for a brief moment thrown back to Renji in Byakuya's tent next to the arena, and he suddenly grasped the importance of the blade he was about to pick up, and what it exactly it would mean to take it.

According to Byakuya, every head of the Shiba clan had carried this tanto since before any records began. Several had used it as a blade of last resort, either to defeat their enemies or to die with honour. And that was the crux of it. The blade itself was unimportant. It was what it represented that mattered, and that was the clan's honour. What Ichigo was doing by picking it up with his own hand, was swearing his own oath of fealty. To his clan. To those who would look to him as their leader. He was swearing to uphold their honour through his own.

It was humbling. But at the same time, kind of uplifting. It was yet another bond between himself and what was the only future he now had and, as he wrapped his fingers around the sheath and lifted the sword from its resting place, Ichigo felt as though the ghosts of his ancestors stepped into place behind him.

No longer alone, it was a stronger, older, more mature Ichigo who carefully slipped the tanto through his belt and for the first and last time, dropped into a full kowtow in front of the other clan heads. They all joined him, a gesture of mutual respect and fealty to the absent Soul King.

And then the whole damned thing was over.

center


	2. Cherry Berry Swirl

As the sun cleared the horizon, Byakuya sheathed Senbonzakura and peeled the sweaty tekkou from his hands. He tucked them into the front of his kosode and began warming down, stretching aching muscles and rotating his shoulders. His suburi had gone well this morning leaving his body feeling loose and relaxed. If he was called on to fight today, he'd be more than ready. It was almost a pity he had the day off.

A secret smile curled his lips and he ducked his head, thinking about what was waiting for him. No, not a pity at all. With so many riches to choose from, he could surely find something to fill the hours.

His servants had prepared his usual bath, but Byakuya indicated his preference for bathing alone and settled for a thorough wash before slipping into one of Renji's yukata and padding back to his rooms.

Renji and Ichigo were both still sleeping, back to back in much the same position as they so often fought an enemy. It was endearing how close the pair had grown in so short a time. And something of a relief for Byakuya. For a while he'd worried that Renji was jealous of the newcomer, but now he suspected his lover was as fond of Ichigo as Byakuya was himself.

Renji chose that moment to grunt and twitch, shoving at the covers until they slid down to reveal acres of skin decorated with bold slashes of ink. The temptation to crawl in next to him and spend an hour or two mapping the designs was almost overwhelming, but Byakuya forced himself to focus. It was Ichigo who he had his sights on this morning. The past week had been a frantic scramble to finalise the arrangements for the investiture and as a consequence Byakuya had had little time for anything but practical advice and curt words for the young man. Now was the time to make it up to him, and have a little fun at the same time.

He tugged the covers back and slid beneath them, stopping only to shed his yukata before placing a gentle kiss on a slack, slightly damp mouth. Ichigo frowned, wrinkling his nose and, predictably, rolled onto his back, exactly the way Byakuya wanted him. Now he just needed to get proper access.

With the covers pulled up over his head to keep the cold from waking Ichigo prematurely, Byakuya ducked down and licked a wet stripe up one muscled thigh, biting gently where leg and hip met. Ichigo jerked, his legs opening, and Byakuya subsided with a happy sigh between them. Giving Ichigo morning blow-jobs was a joy of a very particular kind.

For one thing, he always smelled so very good. Of warmth and male and sleepiness. Byakuya nuzzled at the softness curled in its nest of light brown hair, smiling when Ichigo huffed a sigh and flexed slightly. The other thing was that the boy was beautifully responsive. He had none of the trained reactions both himself and Renji suffered from, and thus responded in entirely genuine ways to any touch or caress.

Was it greedy, he pondered, as he blew a stream of air over slowly firming flesh, not to share such bounty? Ichigo and Renji, both in his bed and his for the taking? He certainly didn't deserve either one, and yet here they were, of their own free will. Perhaps when Renji took his captaincy, he should encourage Ichigo to go with him, find another lieutenant for himself.

The prospect of long lonely years with an empty bed stretched out ahead of him and, for once, Byakuya decided he didn't care if his motives were selfish. All his life he had been giving things up for the good of clan and division. This, he was going to keep. Whatever it took.

As he pondered, he dug a pointed tongue into the base of Ichigo's dick and when it rolled to meet him, sucked it gently into his mouth. It rested there, growing and hardening until he had to lift his head or risk choking. The better angle allowed him to work it for a while, and he eased the foreskin back and rubbed the flat of his tongue firmly against the slit. Ichigo grunted deep in his chest and hands patted at Byakuya's head through the quilt. He stilled, aware of the cliff edge of sensation he was inducing and unwilling to nudge Ichigo over the precipice too early.

In order to prevent such a happening, he carefully and slowly allowed his treat to slip from his mouth, huffing a small laugh when Ichigo whined in his sleep, and turned his attention to a prominent hip bone. Nibbling there garnered a different sort of sound, a quiet half-giggle that turned into a sigh when Byakuya replaced teeth with lips and kissed the tickle away. He continued nibbling and kissing across a solid set of abs and up across a smooth chest, taking the opportunity to fumble for his discarded yukata, or more specifically the grease Renji always kept in the pocket. He found it easily and retreated with it to his cosy nook.

Unstopping the cork released a waft of delicate perfume which Byakuya recognised as sandalwood. It seemed an odd choice for such a down to earth personality but Byakuya had long since learned that Renji did have hidden depths. Even if they were so well concealed that even the man himself seemed oblivious to them at times.

He took Ichigo back into his mouth again and, as he sucked gently on the head, rubbed the pads of his greasy fingers round and over Ichigo's entrance. He relaxed quickly and Byakuya was soon able to ease a single finger inside without eliciting any more than an increased rate and depth of breathing.

Patience, control, and vigilance towards the other's reactions all came into play as Byakuya slowly deepened the penetration and eased a second finger in alongside the first. By the time he was able to use a third, Ichigo was solid and leaking into Byakuya's mouth, and making the kind of low pitched noises more normally associated with really good dreams. It was altogether satisfying to bring him this far and still not disturb him from sleep.

A rustle of the quilt heralded Renji getting in on the act. The covers lifted slightly and Byakuya raised his eyes to meet Renji's enquiring ones. Whatever Renji was about to say apparently fizzled out at the sight of him, replaced by that kind of glazed hungry look Byakuya had learnt to associate with imminent pouncing. He frowned sternly, not an easy feat considering he had his mouth full of dick, and was gratified to see Renji's face clear.

This morning was not about him, or Renji, it was about Ichigo. A reward and a reconnection that all of them desperately needed. Renji seemed to understand his unspoken words and retreated, allowing Byakuya to continue with what he was doing, though he didn't plan on it taking long.

Another few easy strokes and he gauged Ichigo close enough. He took Ichigo far into the back of his throat and swallowed, at the same time pressing his fingertips firmly against that spot deep inside him.

"Fuck! Oh fucking fuck!" The quilt flew as Ichigo, pinned to the bed by Renji's arm across his chest, woke up coming hard, his hands flailing down to catch at Byakuya's hair and tugging on it as Byakuya continued to swallow. And swallow again.

"Nyargh!"

The incoherent sound which followed a few seconds later was strained and probably meant 'enough'. Byakuya pulled off with a wet slurp, rose to his knees and quickly slicked himself up before lifting Ichigo's legs and pressing into him. Ichigo twitched and groaned, his arms flopping across his face, his skin flushed scarlet down his chest and his breathing laboured as Byakuya began to move.

Byakuya could sympathise. He knew how it felt to be fucked when you'd just come like that. When it was almost too much and yet so good, to be open and sensitive and vulnerable.

Beside them, Renji had his hand around his own cock, stroking it firmly as his eyes flicked back and forth between Ichigo and Byakuya. After a minute or two recovery time, Ichigo grabbed at him, dragging him in for a kiss and Byakuya got to watch as Renji fell apart for Ichigo as effectively as he ever did for him. It started with small sounds, breathy needy whines that never failed to turn Byakuya on when Renji made them, and progressed to Renji draping himself across Ichigo's upper body, pressing him into the pillows and humping enthusiastically.

Though to be fair, not all of the spectacular reaction was down to the kiss. Most of it was probably due to Ichigo's hand replacing Renji's on Renji's cock. It turned out that what skill Ichigo lacked with his mouth, he more than made up for with his hands. The boy could give a hand-job that reduced even Byakuya to pleading within minutes. Something in the wrist, perhaps. Byakuya had yet to work out precisely what it was.

It didn't take even that long with Renji, who was never one to seek control when pleasure was on offer. He was soon thrusting into Ichigo's hand, his kisses becoming sloppier by the second and Byakuya knew he'd come very soon if he wasn't distracted.

To that end, he slapped hard on the meat of a taut muscled thigh, and smirked when Renji jumped round to glare at him.

"What the hell?"

Byakuya looked pointedly at Ichigo's dick which was making a manful effort to stand to attention again. "I think someone may appreciate a helping hand since you appear to have monopolised his own." He could have done it himself, but to be honest he was rather enjoying himself indulging in the hot clutch of Ichigo's body while watching them making out.

At his suggestion, Renji glanced down and then up at Ichigo, who grinned and jiggled in a way that made his dick bob up and down and almost toppled Byakuya over. He harrumphed and tightened his grip, shifting Ichigo bodily down the bed to improve the angle. Ichigo went slack-jawed at his first thrust and Byakuya did it again, just to see the boy's dick twitch and leak when he scored a direct hit.

Renji licked his lips and before Byakuya could suggest otherwise, he'd dipped down and taken the tip of Ichigo's dick into his mouth.

"No! Bastard!" Ichigo wailed, his hands slamming into the back of Renji's head, fingers curling into his hair as he shoved at him.

Neck muscles bulging, Renji resisted and kept his lips sealed as he rode out Ichigo's attempts to push himself deeper. His eyes rose to Byakuya's and Byakuya nodded in warning and started to thrust, slow, hard and deep. Renji's cheeks hollowed and Byakuya could feel the memory of that strong suction around his own cock, echoed by the clasp and tug of Ichigo's body as Ichigo shook, trapped between the two of them.

In such pleasurable extremis, he was as pretty a sight as Byakuya had ever seen. Eyes closed and mouth open, his head was pressed into the pillows and every second or two, his tongue would flash out to sweep across his lower lip, keeping it wet and pink. Byakuya wanted to push his fingers into it, or his tongue, or his cock. Anything to see it kept open and wet.

He shuddered, hips jerking as thoughts of fucking and sucking swirled through his mind, short-circuiting his tenuous control over his desires. It took iron-hard will to drag himself back from the edge and he was was shaking with effort when he'd managed it, opening his eyes to see Renji smirking up at him around Ichigo's cock.

Somehow he'd managed to straddle the boy, which neatly and most usefully hid him from Byakuya's view. Not that Renji himself was any less distracting. He was on his knees and elbows, his intricate ink on magnificent display, and with his mouth full, hair coming loose and falling across face and shoulders, he looked like sin incarnate. Byakuya found himself wondering yet again what spirit he had managed to please to be given such an incredible gift.

Releasing Ichigo's hip, he reached out and ran his fingers through Renji's hair, tugging on it slightly and watching as Renji's eyelids fluttered closed in pleasure. A moment later they flew open again and he pulled off Ichigo's cock to press his forehead against his own wrist and pant heavily. Byakuya couldn't see the cause, but he could guess at it.

"Hands?" he asked, surprised at how strained his own voice sounded.

Renji nodded, shuddered hard and returned to Ichigo's cock, a determined expression on his face. Apparently he was not going to allow the move to pass unmatched. Byakuya hid his smile against Ichigo's knee and continued to fuck his way slowly to completion, fingers still playing with wayward strands of Renji's hair.

With the two of them urging each other on, it didn't take long for one to succumb. Unsurprisingly, since Ichigo had already come once, it was Renji who fell first, his whole body curling in on itself, his ass muscles flexing as he fucked into Ichigo's hands. He'd abandoned Ichigo's cock and mouthed helplessly at Byakuya's fingers, his breath hot and rushing, voice no more than harsh bestial grunts until he froze and jerked and Byakuya heard Ichigo gasp.

When Renji collapsed sideways, he could see why. Stripes of come decorated Ichigo's face, slipping wetly down his cheeks and across his lips, his chin, and neck. Ichigo swiped a hand through the mess, his fingers going straight into his mouth to be sucked clean, and a visceral spasm of want hit Byakuya when he saw Ichigo's lips close around them.

An animalistic snarl escaped his control and he lunged forwards, folding Ichigo almost in half so he could reach his face and taste the traces Renji had left behind. Ichigo came to meet him, snagging at his hair and tugging him close, sharing what he had already stolen and tipping chin so Byakuya could clean every scrap from his face.

A groaned, "Fuck, that's hot," came from beside them and Byakuya reached out for Renji, dragging him into a kiss and passing his own flavour back to him. Ichigo let out a choked off groan and Byakuya felt him start to come again. And this time nothing would stop him from falling too. With Renji on his tongue and Ichigo beneath him, it was perfect and wonderful and he made no attempt to fight the surge that took his breath and heart and sight and made him soar. He came, hard and hot, voice stuttering into a surprised crescendo, hardly conscious of Renji pressed against his back and holding him fast.

It was Renji's hands that eased him away afterwards, untangled him from Ichigo and saw him safe to the bed. And two pairs of hands that tucked him in and encouraged him down into dreamless sleep.

* * *

They may have the day off, but there were still responsibilities to fulfil. After a late lunch, Byakuya retreated to his study to take the weekly field report from Sagara Hisana, the division's fifth seat. A pretty girl who was much brighter than most gave her credit for, she conveyed the relevant facts quickly and efficiently, and Byakuya couldn't help noticing the particularly respectful bow she directed towards Renji on her way out.

Watching her go, Byakuya found himself thinking about her in slightly different terms. As a shinigami, she was not hugely strong. Her spiritual pressure showed no signs of rising to captain level, and she was old enough now that it would be starting to climb if it were ever going to. On the other hand, she had great organisational skills and a level of political acumen which allowed her to remain popular without resorting to the types of petty bribes and blackmails so many officers used.

On the battlefield she could command men older and stronger than herself, as she had proven on more than one occasion, and with much success. Her judgement was rarely suspect, and she could think strategically as well as tactically. She also had an innate grace and boasted an understanding of etiquette which belied her common roots.

All in all she was wasted as a mid-ranked officer and only her lack of power held her back. It was something that could be fixed if he whispered the right words in the right ears, or become irrelevant if she served under the right leader.

Back in the library, where Ichigo was lounging in the afternoon sun like a cat starved of summer, Byakuya continued to turn the idea around in his mind, considering it carefully from all angles to reveal any flaws, but no matter how long he thought, he could find nothing that could not easily be addressed.

Finally, while waiting for Renji to make his next move in the shogi game, he voiced his idea aloud. "You should consider training Sagara as your lieutenant for when you take your captaincy."

Renji froze, hand hovering over his silver general which Byakuya just knew he was going to promote again, as he always did no matter how many times he was advised against it, and said, "What?"

"You will need to select someone to serve in that capacity. Ichigo will make an excellent second for the battle, however his place is here at the 6th." Of course if he really wanted to go Byakuya neither could nor would stop him, but so far he seemed inclined to stay until he had a chance to make his own run.

After shooting a worried glance at Ichigo, who still looked half asleep though the swirl of his reiatsu proved he'd started listening, Renji said, "I wasn't planning on stealing him. Honestly."

Byakuya hid his amusement. "I realise that, however you will need a lieutenant and you have yet to select a candidate. Since you will be relying on them for many years to come, it rather behoves you to ensure you're compatible before you actually commit to each other." Put that way, it sounded like a marriage. Byakuya hastened to remind himself that Renji may be leaving his command but not his bed. They would still be together, whoever he selected as his lieutenant.

"Right. Yeah, you're right." Renji nodded firmly, reached for his playing piece again and then stopped, frowning. "But I hadn't really thought about who."

Tamping down momentary irritation, Renji could be obtuse at the most inopportune times, Byakuya said, "Hence my suggestion that Sagara may prove suitable. She would compliment your abilities in many ways." And temper some of Renji's blunter edges with the types of mannered games which many in Seireitei employed.

"Right," Renji said again, though this time there was no nod, just a slight wrinkling of his nose, as though Byakuya had suggested he bathe in something unpleasant. Apparently there was more to be said and Renji was unwilling to share it.

Ichigo came to rescue. "Sagara, that's Hisana, right? Fifth seat?" He'd rolled over and was lying on his front, his chin propped on his hand and legs kicked in the air. When Byakuya confirmed his guess, he said, "Thought so. You won't get Renji to take her then. He thinks they're creepy."

Now genuinely confused, Byakuya turned back to Renji, who was treating the shogi board to the type of glare which sought to level mountains. Whatever was bothering him looked to be serious. Byakuya hesitated to push the point, since they so rarely discussed Renji's life before he'd come into service, but this could prove too important to sweep into the corner."Renji?" he asked. "Is this some gaki superstition?"

"What?" Renji's head shot up. "No, no, what made you think...?" The question died unasked on his lips. He shook his head and tried again. "No, it's... " Again he stopped speaking. Finally, after a moment or two of thought, he huffed a sigh. "It's stupid okay. Just, they look so much alike – her and her sister. First time I met 'em, and this was years ago, I couldn't tell 'em apart, even though the little one, what's her name, Rukia, is so much younger. They're just like peas in a pod and... " He squirmed, looking embarrassed. "What if they swapped places and I never noticed. I might end up screwing the wrong one and I dunno, that's just... "

"Creepy?" Ichigo supplied into the silence. The amusement in his voice echoed Byakuya's own feeling about the little outburst.

"Oi!" Renji snapped at him. "I don't laugh at you when you get all tied in knots about shit, so lay off!"

Ichigo simply rolled onto his back, snickering. When Renji looked to be going in for the kill, Byakuya stopped him with a touch to his arm. He halted in his tracks and turned a resentful glare on Byakuya.

Schooling back an ill-timed smile, Byakuya did his best to explain. "Renji, I wasn't suggesting you take her as a lover, but as your lieutenant. The two roles do not have to be synonymous."

"Well, course not, I just..." Renji shook his head heavily, scowling at his knees and his frustration was palpable. "It's hard for me ta think of it any other way. I know here -" he tapped his temple, "that they're different, but here -" his chest, "That's what taichō is. Lover. Protector. Untangling it all... " He looked up, and his eyes were haunted. "It's hard, taichō. When I start thinking about going, it feels like I'm pulling bits of me apart."

Byakuya stared at him helplessly, because how did you respond to a statement like that. If he had a choice, he would never send Renji from his side, but Soul Society needed him. Needed his strength and goodness of heart.

They sat staring at each other and really might have ended up staying there for the rest of the afternoon if Ichigo hadn't said, "Hey, so I know what I meant to ask you. There was this guy at the ceremony. Dark hair with a bit that dangled over his nose. He was sitting behind the sōtaichō -"

The description was unmistakable, though Byakuya was too slow to get his response in first. "Aizen," Renji growled, and Byakuya added, "Why do you wish to know?"

Ichigo shot upright, his attention on them entirely now. "Aizen? That's the other one that does experiments like Kurotsuchi and Urahara, right?"

"His interests are skewed more towards the higher classes of hollow but in principle, yes." After taking a calming breath, Byakuya asked again, "Why did you bring him up?" He hadn't even known he was back, let alone at the ceremony. The fact that neither he nor Renji had noticed him filled Byakuya with a deep sense of disquiet.

"Oh, nothing really, he just looked really familiar. If he's some important guy though maybe I have run into him before and he just didn't register." Ichigo looked ready to shrug the matter aside. Byakuya wasn't quite so willing.

"That is highly unlikely as he spends most of his time in Hueco Mundo." A horrible thought started to occur to him. The graveyard where Ichigo had been discovered the day before was essentially unguarded. He turned to Renji and saw a similar realisation dawning on his face. "The missing hour?" he suggested.

Renji nodded mutely and then scrambled to his feet. "I'll go find the right mod. It might be able to pick something up."

"Do so," Byakuya concurred, "Who knows what sort of mischief he may have left behind." Anything from a hidden seal to a time sensitive hadō. Aizen had been known to use both in the past to great effect. Some suspected he had brought down the sōtaichō's old lieutenant, Sasakibe Chōjirō, using something of the sort. The man's sudden and violent demise had certainly been unprecedented and unexplained. And Ichigo had virtually no defences against kidō.

"Can't see how a mod'll help. They're just for general security," Ichigo muttered disgustedly as Renji left the room.

Making no attempt to conceal his annoyance, Byakuya snapped back, "Your personal distaste has no place in this, Kurosaki-sanseki. As your captain I am telling you that it is vital we ascertain if Aizen was the cause of your blackout yesterday and a modified soul is our closest resort."

Ichigo flushed and averted his face at the reprimand, though his reaction did give Byakuya pause. Surely Ichigo knew... though perhaps not. With his odd position within the Seireitei hierarchy, so much history that was normally learnt as a child had passed him by. It was time he learnt the truth then. "These days it is indeed the case that they are used for general security, however their original purpose was more specific."

Ichigo continued to look away, an expression of aggressive disinterest on his face, as though something so trivial would prevent Byakuya from continuing his tale.

"Within the ranks of Gotei 13, there are shinigami who's zanpakutō can affect the senses to a profound extent. For example, Tōsen Kaname's Suzumushi can render a soul with low reiryoku insensible through the use of sound. And the zanpakutō belonging to his superior, Hirako, confuses the eyes so they misinterpret the direction from which an attack is being launched. These abilities are well known and can be countered by those with the skills to do so.

"However there is one zanpakutō in Soul Society which can do much more than that."

"Aizen's," Ichigo said, eyes closing as his chin sank to his chest. At least it showed he was listening.

"As you say," Byakuya confirmed. He pushed aside the shogi board and rose to his feet, heading for the section of the library which housed the books on Seireitei history. "The story I am about to tell you took place just under three hundred years ago, when my father was still young. Come, take these for me."

His fingers walked the shelf edges as he scanned the collection, quickly locating various books and stacking them in a still resentful Ichigo's arms.

"Aizen is an object lesson to all of Seireitei," he continued, ignoring the petulance. "His parents both served in the 8th. His mother was a low ranking shinigami, his father the fifth seat, or so it was believed. They were not married, though that is hardly unusual amongst commoners, and were both killed not long after the child was born. Rather than sending him out to the camps, the unit adopted him and he became something of a favourite with Kyōraku Shunsui.

"Once he was old enough for small tasks, he was employed as a kind of page, for want of a better expression. However, unbeknown to anyone, this prodigiously talented boy had not only already gained his zanpakutō, he had also learnt its name."

This raised Ichigo's head. "Shikai? How old was he?"

"In human terms of maturity, perhaps seven." Byakuya answered willingly enough, though it was of little importance. In his opinion, however young the shinigami, they all bore responsibility for their own actions and Aizen's had been unforgivable.

After a final check of the books to be sure he had everything he needed, Byakuya picked up his own small pile and gestured for Ichigo to follow him to the desk as he moved on with the next part of the story.

"As it later emerged, Aizen's shikai was something none had ever seen before. Kyōka Suigetsu has the ability to deceive all the senses, an ability Aizen calls 'complete hypnosis'. Once it is activated, all the target's senses, even their ability to feel reiryoku, can be manipulated so that they perceive only what Aizen desires them to perceive. He could convince your body it was drowning on dry land. Or trick your eyes into not seeing the chasm which lay directly in your path."

Ichigo was still back by the shelves, clutching the books to his chest, expression horrified. Perhaps he had already grasped the implications of the thing. For someone who seemed to wilfully misunderstand the simplest of situations, Ichigo's grasp of the complex could be startling at times.

Byakuya opened the first of his own books to an illustration showing a sprawling complex of buildings, gardens and fortifications, and explained, "Of course like any young shinigami, Aizen needed to practice in order to develop his zanpakutō's startling ability. Since he often accompanied his master to the Kyōraku estate in the far north of district twelve east, the people there became his targets."

The rest of the books thumped down next to him and Ichigo peered over his shoulder. Byakuya took a step to the side, allowing Ichigo free access to the picture, and began searching for others he remembered. As he carefully paged through the next book, he continued relating the facts.

"At first it was nothing more than simple tricks, switching salt for sugar in the kitchens, or hiding a valued object. But as he grew in power and skill, his illusions became more sophisticated. His first victim was a guard, whom he tricked into mistaking stone steps for a corridor. The unfortunate man broke his neck in the resultant fall."

"How the hell can you know-?" Ichigo began, his outburst so predictable that Byakuya spoke over him without thinking. "Patience. I promise all will become clear, once the tale is told."

Palm flat across the double page photograph, his pushed the next book over to Ichigo and said, "His casual acts of brutality continued for some time until the day he convinced the Kyōraku clan-head that his castle was infested with hollows. The man went on a rampage, hunted down and killed all of his family, including his wife and newborn daughter, and then killed himself when Aizen lifted the hypnosis and he saw what he had done."

Confronted by the aftermath of the massacre, Ichigo looked green. "Fuck," he muttered. He sank to his knees next to the low desk, his fingers tracing the numerous bodies roughly covered in cloth to preserve their dignity. He lingered longer over the smaller shapes, Byakuya noticed. So much like his father. A moment later, sad eyes rose to meet his and Ichigo asked in a quiet voice, "Couldn't anyone stop him?"

"Kyōraku Nahiro was a captain level shinigami. His guards were powerless to defend against him, though they did try at the cost of their own lives. There was only one who could perhaps have prevented the tragedy and that was his brother, Shunsui. Unfortunately he was away drinking at a local tavern that day and so missed the entire thing."

Ichigo shoved the book away from him, disgust clear on his face. "So what the hell happened? Aizen's a murderer! How come he's still wandering around? "

"At first he denied any involvement, claiming that Kyōraku-sama had simply lost his mind and killed his family and retainers in a bout of insanity or a jealous rage. For himself, he claimed to have hidden beneath his master's bed until everything had quietened down, at which point he had gone out to investigate. Which was why he was discovered in the main courtyard covered in blood and with his sword drawn. The few guards who survived long enough to speak, confirmed his story."

Another pair of photographs, the first being a candid shot of a young Aizen being comforted by a devastated looking Kyōraku Shunsui. The latter's unkempt and scruffy appearance was very much at odds with the sober and responsible clan-head and captain Byakuya was familiar with.

The second photograph was an official one. Taken in black and white, it showed a very small child with dark skin and strange pale eyes. Byakuya picked the book up, turned it around and handed it over, saying, "Fortunately Aizen miscalculated. His crimes had in fact been witnessed."

Ichigo took the book without looking, his tone slightly mocking as he said, "But anyone who saw them would have had their senses screwed with too. How could anyone trust them?"

"At the time no one could, but there was enough credence given to the child's word in certain quarters that further investigations were undertaken. As a result, two discoveries were made that have proved vital in protecting Soul Society from the worst of Aizen Sōsuke's sadistic machinations."

Ichigo twitched at the mention of Aizen's name and he murmured, "So it is Sōsuke."

Byakuya glanced up from his search for the final two images he wanted. There was something about the way Ichigo had spoken, like the information hadn't come as a surprise. "What do you remember?" he asked.

The question may have come out more as a snapped demand since Ichigo blinked at him and said, "Nothing. I just... That was the name I thought of when I saw him at the ceremony." He sighed and lowered the book carefully to the desk. "Do you really think he did something to me?"

"I do. My only comfort is that you could not have seen this." Byakuya turned to the next image, which showed a sword with green bindings on the hilt, hanging as though in mid-air. "One of the major discoveries to come out of the tragedy was the information that, before they could be influenced, Aizen's targets must first be shown the release of his zanpakutō's shikai."

Ichigo wasn't paying attention. He was still pondering the photograph of the massacre. "You know, in the living world, he'd have been given the death penalty," he said, and then grimaced and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "No, he wouldn't. He was just a kid. They'd think he was sick or something and lock him up so he couldn't hurt anyone else."

"A similar solution was reached here, though for different reasons. Aizen was sentenced to jail for an indefinite period. I have heard the majority hoped he would die in there and many would have preferred he was executed anyway." His father certainly thought that way. Byakuya had always considered it a surprising attitude for such a kind-hearted man to harbour.

"And that might even have come to pass. However several years later, Soul Society found itself hard-pressed by a particularly determined enemy." The second Quincy war. Up until now, Byakuya had made no attempt to educate Ichigo on the long and bloody history between his ancestors. It was a subject best left until long into the future, in his opinion. Thus he glossed over the details. "Aizen's shikai had the potential to turn the tide in our favour, so he was offered a deal. He would be released from prison under license of two conditions. He was only allowed to carry his zanpakutō whilst actively fighting, and at all times he was to be guarded by a special unit appointed by Central 46."

Ichigo pushed the book containing the pictures of the massacre away from him and looked up at Byakuya. "Special how?"

"The explanation for that takes us back to the Kyōraku estate, and the witness to everything which took place there." Byakuya tapped the image of Kyōka Suigetsu. "Do you remember what I said the ritual was?"

Ichigo shrugged, "Yeah, they have to see him release his shikai."

"Precisely. They have to _see _him-"

"Holy crap!" Ichigo interjected. "That's why all the mods are blind!"

Excellent deduction. Byakuya nodded approvingly. "Precisely. And the witness at the estate was a blind boy by the name of Tōsen Kaname."

"The 5th's fukutaichō?"

"The one and the same. As a child servant at the Kyōraku estate, he was there from the beginning and thus witnessed a lot of what happened, including the events of that final fateful day."

"Why the hell didn't he tell someone?"

It was the same reaction everyone had when they first heard the story. "And say what? To whom? He was a small child, a servant, and blind. The boy he would testify against was the page of a Gotei 13 captain and favoured by the master of the house. He had already witnessed enough to know how artful Aizen was, and knew that should his immunity be discovered he would be killed. You could perhaps call his actions cowardice, though it does seem a little unfair under the circumstances. Once he was given a chance to tell his tale, he held nothing back."

That was met with silence. Byakuya took the time to reacquaint himself with a few details, allowing Ichigo as long as he needed to reflect on what he'd been told.

After a few minutes, Ichigo seemed to come to a decision. He shook his head and said, "I'm not buying it. If they wouldn't have believed him before, why believe him afterwards? He's still a kid, still a servant and Aizen says he didn't do anything. Nothing's changed."

"Again you are right." Byakuya flicked the page on the book to reveal the next plate. A picture of a pale figure of indeterminate gender dressed in a flowing garment that seemed to almost grow from its body. Its face was obscured by a deep cowl and beside it stood a shinigami in a captain's haori, wearing kenseikan in his hair.

Ichigo glanced from the image to Byakuya and back again. "Your... uncle?" he hazarded.

Byakuya blinked an affirmation. "That is indeed Kuchiki Kōga." This was difficult. There was nothing about Kōga and his abilities that Byakuya found anything less than vile. "He could drag a zanpakutō spirit out of its wielder and make it manifest." Which was all Ichigo needed to know for now.

"So that's Aizen's zanpakutō?" Ichigo asked, tapping the tall robed figure.

"It is. Under questioning it admitted to all the crimes Tōsen had identified and more besides. Aizen was imprisoned primarily on the word of his own zanpakutō."

"Harsh," Ichigo said, his gaze turning inward. Byakuya wondered if Zangetsu had any words of wisdom for the boy. A moment later, Ichigo's eyes cleared and he shrugged. "The old man says it must have wanted to say something, otherwise it would never have turned on its wielder."

Interesting. So Zangetsu was unaware of Kōga's abilities. Byakuya had wondered if he'd managed to retain any of his secrets after their close encounter during the challenges. At the time he had been entirely at the zanpakutō's mercy.

"Okay," Ichigo was saying. "So I'm guessing mods were invented so Aizen's guards were immune to his illusions."

Did he need to know more? Perhaps it would be better to tell him. It may help him understand why the invention of modified souls had been such a boon. "Yes and no. You are right in thinking that Aizen is guarded by modified souls today, however that was not the case initially."

Finding that he did not wish to be standing for this, Byakuya sat by the desk and opened a book to reveal the final image he had to show Ichigo. The work was a scientific one which Byakuya had found amongst his uncle's things after his death. It depicted the creation of a 'negator', as they had been dubbed, through the individual stages from start to finish. They needed no explanation and, as he saw the expression on Ichigo's face, Byakuya found himself trying to justify the unjustifiable.

"You have to understand that after the attack on the Kyōraku, all of Seireitei was in terror of their lives. Where there was one Aizen, what was to say there couldn't be more. Thus a trade started in children with good sensory abilities, especially those who could detect different kinds of -"

The book slammed closed and Ichigo lurched to his feet. Byakuya didn't need to be told that he was incredibly angry; it seethed in the air, a thunderstorm heavy build of reiatsu that pressed down on everything around them. Rather than strike back, Byakuya simply used his own reiatsu to reinforce the edges of his own space, drawing a line around it; a message which read 'this far and no farther'. Despite his rage, Ichigo respected it and seemed to be trying to control himself.

"They used kids," he said a few moments later. "They took kids and they blinded them to make guards because they were scared!" He turned to Byakuya and there was that face again. Karin, when she had asked him to kill her. Isshin, the night he had wreaked bloody mayhem through Byakuya's family. Ichigo himself when he had realised Yuzu was being taken from him. That devastated, agonised, resolute expression that seemed to threaten and promise a million things within a single heartbeat. "I hate this place," Ichigo said. "I really really fucking hate it."

Byakuya opened his mouth to answer and found himself talking to thin air. Ichigo had gone.


	3. Bells for the Swordless Soldier

The wind was blowing dust into his eyes and making them water. Ichigo, swiping the back of his hand over first one cheek then the other, sniffed, and decided to give up lying to himself.

He was such a sap. A couple of photos of dead kids and here he was on top of Sōkyoku Hill bawling his eyes out. He blinked a few more times, sniffed again and felt recovered enough to let go of the death grip he had on his knees.

His toes were cold. Tucking them up under his hakama, he took a moment to regret leaving the manor without tabi or waraji, but couldn't really bring himself to mean it. He'd had to get out of there. Away from Byakuya and his guilt-ridden excuses. Away from those pictures.

The scary thing was, finding out what they'd done wasn't even a surprise. Of course they'd used kids. These were the same shinigami who hadn't thought twice about declaring him and sisters 'non-people' and letting a sword fight decide whether or not they'd end up as lab rats.

Ichigo didn't think he'd ever forget his absolute terror as Byakuya had gone down during that fight with Kurotsuchi. If he'd lost, then Karin would have belonged to that madman.

The sudden realisation that he could have killed her himself rather than allow that to happen, ploughed into Ichigo's mind and he shuddered. Never gonna happen. And there wasn't a damn thing, in this world or the last one, that'd make him do it. He rather kill himself before he lifted his sword against either of his sisters.

And if they ended up possessed by Aizen?

Then, Ichigo decided, he'd just have to hunt down the bastard possessing them, and kill him. Slowly and painfully. That sounded fair. And made him feel a hell of a lot better.

He could even do it, here in Soul Society. Aizen was just a fukutaichō and there was nothing in the rules that said Ichigo couldn't take him out without warning. Except if Aizen had done something to him yesterday, then for all Ichigo knew, he could think he was killing the guy when he was actually cutting Renji to pieces.

He shivered, and it wasn't just from the cold. The implications of Aizen's shikai were nasty. Ichigo totally got why people had been so scared. But to use kids like that...? Unforgivable.

The mod souls were better, though they still gave him the creeps. Always did. From the very first time he'd seen one properly, right here, on the top of this hill the first morning he'd been in Seireitei.

Renji had stopped on their way to the 13th. "I don't want you embarrassing taichō so I reckoned you should see a mod properly before ya got there," he'd said, standing with his arms folded, staring out over the city. His expression had been closed, which Ichigo had known even then meant he was serious.

The mod, in dark blue kosode with narrow-legged hakama and a odd hood-like hat, knelt beside him, head down and hands clasped on its lap. Renji poked it with his foot and said, "Show him."

It rose, turned towards Ichigo, grasped the edges of its hood with both hands and lifted it.

Ichigo took an involuntary step backwards.

Superficially the mod looked human, pale-skinned with a narrow face, thin lips and long, slightly hooked nose. But instead of eyes, it had a bony growth that covered the entire top of its head, as though someone had turned a white bowl upside down and jammed it into place.

"What the fuck?" Ichigo said.

Renji's nostrils flared and he replied defensively. "Some zanpakutō can screw around with people's senses, okay? Modified souls can sense when that's happening. That's why we have 'em. It's not alive, not like we are."

"So it's what, like a robot sniffer dog?" Ichigo said, slightly mollified. He edged closer and peered at the thing. It looked alive. When he reached out and poked it in the arm, it turned to face him. This close it smelled dry, like a dusty room.

"No idea what one of the those is. But these mobile mods are made out of hollows. Urahara does something to them to get rid of the souls trapped inside and then sticks a modified soul in the empty reishi body. It's real nasty to look at but believe me the alternative's a fuck of a lot worse."

Even knowing that he probably wasn't going to like the answer, Ichigo asked anyway. "What is the alternative?"

Renji's lip curled. "Yer better off not knowing."

With everything else that had happened that day and the ones following, the encounter had slid to the back of Ichigo's mind. In the light of what he'd just been told though, he guessed Renji had been talking about 'negators' when he'd said Ichigo was better off not knowing.

How had Renji found out about them, Ichigo wondered, and immediately knew the answer to his own question. There's no way nobles would allow their own to be used like that, so those kids must have been from the camps. Renji had probably known some of them, been friends with some of them. It'd sure explain why he hated the scientists so much, and why he'd been so damned scared about his eyes.

Shit, were there any still around? Had Ichigo ever met one and not known?

He racked his brain for anyone who might have been a negator and the closest he could come was that guy from the 5th, Hisagi. But he had eyes, even if they were an odd colour, and the kid in that book... Well, it sure as hell hadn't had eyes. Or much of a face to speak of.

Ichigo clambered to his feet and wandered over to the edge of the cliff, the massive scaffolding and giant halberd looming up behind him. Wind whipped past, snatching at his hakama and kimono and making him sway with the force of the gusts. Over on the far horizon, beyond the high white wall that surrounded Seireitei, a bank of dark cloud was building and the air tasted almost electric. There was definitely a storm brewing.

He shivered, skin crawling like there was something out there watching him. Some mad scientist with a scalpel and plans.

Snarling a quiet, self-disgusted, "Idiot," under his breath, Ichigo forced himself to think rationally. The feeling was just electricity in the atmosphere making his small hairs staticky. He knew that. He'd studied it in physics, so what the hell was he doing standing here getting all ominous and portentous about something that was completely freaking natural.

It was the pictures.

Okay, stop thinking about that right now. Sleeping was going to be difficult enough for a couple of days imagining that being done to Karin or Yuzu.

The whole thing really did put mod souls into perspective though. And these days Ichigo was so used to seeing them around, he hardly registered them. A bit like his escort...

Ichigo stared out into the wind, a sudden horrible thought creeping up on him.

His escort.

He spun on the spot to see if, by some miracle, they'd managed to keep up when he'd done his shunpo flit. The top of the hill was conspicuously empty of the four guys and mod who were his constant companions these days every time he set foot outside the manor or division headquarters.

In fact, he was alone on the top of the hill. Completely alone. And unarmed. Again. Oh fuck, Byakuya really was going to throttle him this time. And after what happened yesterday, he should have known better himself than to leave them behind. If Aizen turned up, he was as good as...

"Ah, Kurosaki-san, how nice to see you again. Are you enjoying the view? It's really quite spectacular from up here, isn't it."

Okay, Aizen or one of the other mad scientists.

Crouched on a rock near the edge of the precipice, where Ichigo would swear there had been only dust a moment ago, was Urahara Kisuke. The dark green haori he wore over his usual shihakushō snapped and billowed in the wind and, as Ichigo watched, he lifted his face into the teeth of the oncoming gale, eyes slitting closed as though he was enjoying the sensation. The chill had lent a slight pink glow to his cheeks and his straw blond hair was a tousled mess.

In short, he looked a hell of a lot better than the last time Ichigo had seen him, which was as a bloody mess being loaded onto a stretcher at the end of his bout with Byakuya. Not that Ichigo had cared at the time. Or now.

This was the guy who'd invented mods, he reminded himself.

The same one who'd found a replacement for negators, a little voice pointed out. It also wondered why two out of Soul Society's three mad scientists were so hot, but Ichigo wasn't listening to it any more.

Since Urahara's statement seemed to require some sort of acknowledgement, and Ichigo was lacking a zanpakutō to stab him with right now, he said, "I'm not speaking to you."

"That's quite all right," Urahara replied brightly, rising to his feet and slinking towards Ichigo. "I'm not speaking to you either, so we can stand here not speaking to each other and thus avoid getting into trouble with anyone. Won't that be nice."

Had he said mad? He meant absolutely fucking nuts. Ichigo could feel his irritation rising just looking at the guy's smug smirk. And gritting his teeth only lasted so long. When Urahara began whistling tunelessly, Ichigo snapped. "What the hell do you want anyway?"

Grown men should not flutter their eyelashes. Or try to look innocent. It didn't work. It certainly didn't work if you were a captain level shinigami with a reputation for performing vivisection on unsuspecting souls.

Ichigo channelled his uncle Ryūken, the man who'd been known to freeze even Ichigo's dad in his tracks with his disparaging tone. "Do me the courtesy of answering my question or leave. I don't have time to waste on infantile games."

It almost made an impression on Urahara. He startled slightly, blinking sadly at Ichigo before shivering and saying, "So cold!" A second later, he'd done a complete mood one-eighty and was chuckling, "But, if you insist, I shall do my best to answer. What do I want?" He tipped his head back and stared up at clouds fleeing ahead of the storm, his lips pursing in thought. "Such a fascinating question. A long enough lever perhaps, or maybe a kitten to warm my toes at night."

As he stood on the edge of the cliff, musing nonsense out over Seireitei, Ichigo fought the urge to push him off. When they were still there a few minutes later and hadn't progressed past 'a new hat' Ichigo was fighting the urge to leap over the side himself, if only to end the torment.

Instead, and totally out of the blue, he found himself asking, "If you'd won, what would you have done with me?"

That actually shut Urahara up. He turned slowly towards Ichigo on one heel, his head cocked slightly to one side, and there was something about his hair or the angle of the sun, or the way the shadows fell, but his face suddenly seemed engulfed in darkness, as though some inner glow had been abruptly extinguished.

"Do you really wish to know the answer to that, Kurosaki-san?" he asked, all traces of the eccentric fool gone.

Fingers itching for Zangetsu's hilt, Ichigo swallowed down his nerves and said, "If I didn't, I wouldn't have asked."

Urahara stared at him for a moment and then said, "Good answer. Then I shall tell you. I would have taken you home, fed you tea and cake, and then turned you into a monster. Does that answer your question, Kurosaki-san?"

From anyone else, a statement like that would have sounded stupid. From Urahara, it sounded like the complete and unadulterated truth. Ichigo nodded, not trusting his voice to speak.

Urahara immediately beamed at him. "But just remember, even monster's have hearts." And with that completely obtuse statement, he stepped into shunpo and vanished.

The reason for his rapid exit arrived a heartbeat later. Renji skidded to stop beside Ichigo, their escorts arriving a second afterwards a few feet away, and fixed Ichigo with an absolutely filthy look.

"What the hell did he want?" he asked, turning to glare in the direction Urahara had retreated.

Ichigo shrugged, tightening his arms across his chest in a way that was, in no way, shape or form, fear. He didn't have a clue where the sicko was going and didn't feel like sharing the rest of the conversation. Which didn't stop his thoughts or his gut from churning. A monster. What had Urahara meant by that? Something like the negators, or worse? Was there anything worse?

And shit, thinking things like that wasn't gonna help.

"Well, you were lucky he'd didn't just bop you over the head and run off with you," Renji said, abandoning his glaring match with infinity and turning his attention to Ichigo instead. "You've seriously gotta stop dumping your guards like that. Woulda thought you'd learnt your lesson after yesterday."

Ichigo did feel bad about that, especially towards the guys themselves. If anything happened to him while they were on duty, it'd end up on their records. He glanced over his shoulder at Take and nodded an apology at her. She glowered back, darker than the thundery sky, but nodded anyway. Ichigo took it to mean that he might be forgiven, one day.

His eyes drifted to the little mod standing beside her and Ichigo couldn't help wondering about it, about what its existence meant, until Renji jabbed him in the ribs, saying, "What's with all this running away from shit anyhow? What are you, a man or a little girl? Yer find something you don't like, you stand and fight it, for fuck's sake, don't hike up your skirts and run."

"Right," Ichigo repeated flatly. "Stand and fight. Got it. Like I did for Yuzu, you mean."

Renji subsided with a sigh, shaking his head, his gaze dropping to the ground. "Yeah, okay you fucked up then, but you'd not do that again, now would you? And anyway, you've got me to ask if it's stuff that might break the law. I'll let ya know quick enough."

Ichigo treated him to an non-committal grunt, ignoring the way Renji's sympathy bled away into irritation.

Without speaking, Renji straightened up and stretched to his full height, fingers linked high above his head, and Ichigo heard his spine pop. When he spoke again it was with the authority of his rank rather than the familiarity of a lover. "We need to move it, Kurosaki. Taichō wants you checked out to see if Aizen tampered with you before his meeting with Yoruichi."

"What do you mean, 'checked out'?" Ichigo asked, blind-sided by the sudden change of pace. "And where are we going?"

Renji ignored him, gesturing to the escorts that they were leaving.

"Renji?" Ichigo tried again. "Oi! I'm talking to you- Ah, fuck it." As Renji shunpo'd off, Ichigo fell into step behind him. On a good day, he did know when to cut his losses, and suck up his punishment.

* * *

The 'where' turned out to be the headquarters of the 8th, not a division Ichigo was familiar with. He'd met Kyōraku-taichō a couple of times, though mostly because of him being a clan-head rather than on Gotei 13 business.

The captain was waiting for them on the steps to his office building, his size making him an unmistakable imposing presence as always. Close to, he loomed over Ichigo and was taller even than Renji, not something that many in Soul Society could boast.

When he stepped forward to greet them, Ichigo discovered that learning what had happened to the guy's family made him look at him with different eyes. The grey in his short thick hair and the lines on his face, which Ichigo had assumed were purely down to age, became the more recent marks of grief and overwhelming loss. And the general air of sadness and weight that hung around him, now easily read as guilt. Ichigo was surprised he hadn't recognised it before, it seemed so obvious to him now.

His lieutenant and third seat stood one to each side of him like matching bookends. Renji had said the three of them were an item, though Ichigo found that hard to believe. He didn't know them, but he couldn't imagine either woman letting their hair down enough to do something base like having sex, they looked far too prim and proper. Especially when compared to someone like the lush and lovely lieutenant from the 10th, Matsumoto Rangiku.

"Abarai-fukutaichō, Kurosaki-sanseki," Kyōraku said as they came up the steps. "Your captain sent a butterfly to say you were calling. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Ichigo dipped a deep bow, aware that he may be this man's equal at a clan conclave but here, he was very much the junior officer.

Renji's bow was shallower, though still respectful and he followed it with, "Good afternoon, Kyōraku-taichō, erm... " He hesitated and looked around at the small crowd they'd attracted. "It's a bit of a delicate matter, could we maybe discuss it in private?"

"Of course. Excuse me." Kyōraku stepped to one side, gesturing them in. As they passed, he added in a loud voice, "It never fails to amaze me how much there is to do around the front steps these days. I wonder, Nanao-chan, can we find jobs for these hard-working troops somewhere a little less stressful do you think?"

Eyes narrowing, Ise-sanseki tipped her clipboard slightly to peer at it, said in a dry tone, "There are several immediate vacancies on the sewer cleaning team, captain. Shall I make the arrangements?"

The crowd was thinning rapidly. Kyōraku cast a jaundiced look around at the ones left and said, "Leave it five minutes, my dear. If they haven't found something useful to do, you may assign them wherever you see fit."

That shifted the rest. Ichigo had never seen a bunch of shinigami move so fast, and that included his own squad when they heard Kuchiki-taichō was on the way for an unannounced inspection. The woman had serious clout.

His estimation of her went up by several notches, and he gave much more serious thought to Renji's claims. Ise-sanseki, Ichigo decided finally, didn't need to take her hair down to have sex. If she picked up a bull whip, there wasn't a soul in Seireitei who wouldn't fall willingly at her feet.

That made him wonder about Yadomaru Lisa though, and he cast a curious glance at her as they headed up the corridor. Was she another dark horse hiding behind those thick oval glasses and modest outfit? If she was, she was hiding it better than Ise, who at least had a nice seductive sway to her hips as she moved. Yadomaru swaggered, like a guy.

She was also a hell of a lot scarier than Ise. When she caught him still staring after they got to Kyōraku's office, the look in her cool green eyes promised a slow and painful demise if he didn't cease and desist immediately. Being fond of breathing, Ichigo kept his eyes to himself for the rest of the visit, though he couldn't help thinking that it might at least be an interesting way to go.

"So what can we do for the pair of you," Kyōraku said once the door was closed behind the four of them; Ise still being outside. "I have to admit to being quite intrigued by such a cloak and dagger approach." He perched on the edge of his meticulously clear desk, not offering a seat to either Renji or Ichigo, though his smile was friendly enough.

They both stood at ease in front of him and Renji said, "Taichō's worried that Kurosaki's been exposed to a memory manipulation kidō. He thinks it might have been Aizen."

Colour drained from Kyōraku's face leaving his skin like ash. He reached out to steady himself against the desk and Yadomaru was there in an instant to steady him, offering her hand and making no complaint when he gripped it hard enough to make his knuckles whiten.

Scary, yes, but protective and, Ichigo would bet, a damn good lieutenant. And lover as well, he added mentally a moment later when Kyōraku gathered her into his arms and held her close, his face pressed into her neck.

She glared at them over his head and Ichigo saw Renji mouth, 'Sorry,' to her. A shake of her head and slightly cast-down eyes suggested the captain would be okay and that the apology wasn't necessary, and sure enough, after a minute or two, Kyōraku lifted his head and allowed her to move away. Without exchanging a word with her captain, Yadomaru slipped from the room and Kyōraku watched her go before turning back to Renji and Ichigo.

It was a incredible measure of his trust that he actually allowed them, a lieutenant and a third seat, to be alone with him, a captain. Either that or faith in his own power. Thinking about it, Ichigo thought it was probably the latter. According to Renji, Kyōraku was well over two thousand years old and you didn't get that old in Soul Society without having some serious skills.

"That is a potentially calamitous state of affairs," Kyōraku said a moment later, picking up the conversation as though he had never left it. "And I commend your decision to keep it on a need to know basis, Abarai-fukutaichō. A sensible decision and no mistake."

A thank you for not embarrassing him in public, Ichigo interpreted, a guess reinforced by Renji's immediate bow and, "It was my captain's idea, sir. He thought it might start a panic if the rank and file caught wind of it."

Kyōraku nodded, "Then please convey my thanks to him. I'll be sure to remember his thoughtfulness." He stood and made his way round to the other side of the desk, now waving them into seats. "Tea?"

They both said yes and after Kyōraku had ordered a pot, he and Renji started chatting, covering subjects as diverse as the following week's weather forecast, and the new requisition system for essential sundries, or toilet roll as Ichigo knew it to be from filling in more forms than he cared to count.

To an idle listener it would sound like simple gossip but Ichigo found himself fascinated by the meanings implicit underneath the conversations. Byakuya did this at clan meetings and honestly Ichigo found himself lost half the time. Seeing Renji do it with such ease was new and a bit disconcerting.

In Ichigo's mind, Renji was the WYSIWYG one, though Ichigo guessed he must have picked up something more than cramp from attending all those meetings with Byakuya over the years.

After about ten minutes of tea, senbei and more conversation, a quiet knock at the door preceded Yadomaru's return. She didn't come alone. Ise was with her and following them both was a small, slightly hunched figure in a deeply hooded shihakushō like the ones worn by the 3rd, except this one had a thick pink cord sewn around the hem.

Ichigo took a step back, because he just knew what it was. Not a mod, despite the division colours it wore, because mods weren't allowed to wear shihakushō. They weren't alive, thus they couldn't be shinigami. That meant that this was a negator; one of the kids that was snatched from the camps and turned into monsters. He felt sick.

And then felt even worse when the figure turned to him and said in a quiet muffled voice, "I'm sorry. Please don't be scared, Kurosaki-sama. I couldn't hurt you even if I wanted to," because what sort of asshole made a victim of mutilation apologise for being scary.

"S-sorry," he stammered and made a concerted effort to squash his roiling emotions.

"Would it help if you saw?" it asked, and he couldn't deal with that. He couldn't keep thinking of this poor kid as an 'it'.

"I dunno," he said, "I think I'd rather know your name."

Around the room, shocked eyes turned on him, and Ichigo got the same, 'Oh shit,' feeling that he always got when he accidentally stepped in something taboo. "If that's not allowed, then I'm sorry," he said quickly, looking from Kyōraku to Yadomaru and Ise. "I should have asked first, I know."

"Not at all," Kyōraku said quickly. "I'm simply pleasantly surprised. You're one of very few people who've ever bothered to ask. Most seem quite content to treat negators like particularly bright mods."

"But they're people," Ichigo said warily. He still wasn't quite sure why everyone had reacted the way they had. Renji had an amused expression on his face. Leaning back in his chair with his arms tucked behind his head, he looked quite happy to watch Ichigo dig himself out of whatever hole he'd dug himself into.

Ichigo glowered at him, only to get a wide smirk in reply. So much for advice whenever he needed it. But when he glanced over at the others, they were all smiling too, kind of indulgently.

Feeling like a kid who'd got straight A's without even trying, Ichigo folded his arms defensively and said, "What?"

A scattering of laughter broke out around the room. Ise giggled, the back of her hand pressed to her mouth. Yadomaru's was more of a snigger, and both were drowned out by Kyōraku's rich booming guffaw.

"Oh, my boy," he said, getting up and coming round to smack Ichigo hard on the shoulder. "It's good to have a Shiba amongst us again. I've missed your honesty."

Ichigo staggered but managed to catch himself on the desk before he fell over. "I only said what I thought," he protested.

"Exactly," Kyōraku replied. "As your father would have, and your grandfather."

"Grandfather?" Logically, Ichigo had always known he must have one – or actually two. His mom's dad was dead, he knew. It'd happened years ago, long before Ichigo was born. But he'd not thought about his dad's parents. Not even with going through all this clan stuff.

"Shiba Itto. A great man. Very popular with the ladies, and the landlords," Kyōraku confirmed. He looked taken aback. "Did your father not speak of him?"

"I..." Ichigo began and ran out of steam before he could say anything else. He hadn't a clue what he could say.

"Ichigo didn't even know he was half shinigami before he came here, sir," Renji replied for him.

Ichigo flashed him a grateful grimace.

"Ah." Kyōraku's expression turned serious again. "His crimes must have weighed heavily on him indeed, then."

"Sir," Ichigo said, sensing a main chance. Ignoring Renji, who'd just sat bolt upright and looked about to throw himself on a proverbial sword if it would stop the conversation going any further, he continued, "Can you tell me what my dad did? I know it was bad, but no one will say exactly what it was."

Kyōraku turned towards Renji, his face knit into a frown. "Byakuya hasn't told him?" he said, and the lack of anything formal in his address should have told Ichigo something but he was damned if he could work out what.

"No, sir. He, erm... He thought it better not to." Renji looked desperately uncomfortable at having to answer that way.

With an irritated snarl, Kyōraku stood up. "Damn the boy and his secrets," he muttered under his breath as he turned away. A moment later, he swung round again and added, "It'll do him no good in the long run. Someone will say something and then where will he be? Foolish child."

Renji's head bowed under the tongue-lashing, which was really unfair since it wasn't his fault.

"Hey," Ichigo said, "It's not like Renji decided not to tell me. Give him a break." Which probably went against every single rule of etiquette ever, but bullying really annoyed Ichigo, wherever he found it.

Kyōraku immediately pulled up short, holding up a hand to halt Ichigo's tirade. "You're absolutely right. My apologies, Abarai-fukutaichō. You were only doing your duty." He turned away again, treading over to the window and staring out into the dimming light. "Your captain on the other hand needs a severe scolding." He huffed. "What to do, what to do."

Yadomaru neatly solved the dilemma by saying, "He killed Kuchiki-taichō's uncle and father, plus a couple of junior cousins and a handful of servants. No one knows why, because he took off straight afterwards. Kuchiki junior tried to follow and Ichimaru Gin nearly shish-kabobed him. Put him in the 4th for a month. If Kyōraku-taichō hadn't stepped in, he'd have lost the 6th."

In the silence that followed her little speech, all Ichigo could think was, 'And he still fought to stop us from becoming lab rats?' followed by a plaintive, 'Dad, why?' His father had a temper, for sure. And the one or two times Ichigo had seen it, it had been damned scary, but to kill so many people who he must have considered peers, if not friends, didn't fit at all with the man Ichigo knew.

"Shit," Renji said suddenly. He was sat forward in his chair, head resting in his hands. "Taichō's gonna fucking kill me."

"There's no call for language like that in front of the ladies, Abarai-fukutaichō," Kyōraku said, though the rebuke lacked heat.

As did Renji's mumbled, "No, sir. Sorry, sir," that followed.

"Why didn't he want me to know?" Ichigo demanded, when it didn't look like anyone else was going to ask. At least he could get an answer to that question.

Renji glanced up at him. "At a guess, I think he thought it might make you scared of him. Now? I've got no idea. I thought he should have told you after the challenges were done. Or at least when you met the rest of your family, but no, he just control-freaked and swore them to secrecy too. " He groaned and dropped his head into his hands again. "And I did not just say that. Ah, fu... flip."

"Don't worry. I won't mention it, if you don't," Ichigo said. He was still flailing on the inside, trying to work through the implications of the information. The whole thing about _why_ his dad had done what he'd done, he shoved to one side. Instead he focused on something he might be able to answer.

He could sort of see why Byakuya hadn't told him first thing. If he'd known back then, he probably would have been scared, or scareder, of the guy. But him not telling Ichigo now... that hurt. Like he thought Ichigo was too young or too stupid, or too sensitive to deal with it.

People were always stepping in for him, putting themselves between him and danger or pain. Like he was something special worth protecting, when he wasn't. He was just some kid with orange hair and a bad attitude.

The silence in the room grew oppressive. Ichigo got the impression that, if he and Renji weren't around, there'd be a hell of a row going on right now. Maybe they should leave.

From outside a flash of lightning briefly threw the room into sharp relief and then thunder cracked and rolled. The negator jumped.

Ichigo cussed under his breath, he'd forgotten all about the little guy with everything else going on. "Are you okay?" he asked.

It turned towards him, head raised enough that Ichigo caught sight of sagging folds of discoloured skin. Bile rose in the back of his throat and he looked away. He didn't move though. He refused to let what these bastards had done drive him into shunning someone who didn't deserve it.

"I smell Aizen on you, but in a strange way," the kid said. "Not a clean kidō, but not a failed one either. It feels twisted, broken."

"But definitely Aizen," Renji put in, a note of urgency in his voice.

The negator turned towards him with a squeak and gave him a shallow bow. "Oh yes, there's no doubt that it was him."

"Damn." Renji thought for a moment then, "Any chance you can break it?"

"No, sir. Though-" Ichigo saw the kid's head dip. It had stopped itself from speaking, he realised. Thunder rolled again and rain lashed against the window. It was twilight dark outside, the sky an eerie greenish colour.

"Though what?" Ichigo insisted. "No one's gonna have a go at you for suggesting something."

The hood rustled before raising in Ichigo's direction. "If the rumours are right and Kurosaki-sama is part Quincy, it may just wear off in time anyway."

"Oho!" Kyōraku chortled, "So that was why you were keeping mum. Who was it this time?"

The negator had dropped into a deep bow at Kyōraku's reaction and Ichigo could see that it was clutching fearfully at its hakama. It still spoke up in answer though. "I'm sorry, sir. The 12th, sir, and it wasn't deliberate this time. I was just sitting on the wall, and they walked right past talking about it. I couldn't help overhearing."

"I'm sure you couldn't," Kyōraku assured it, warmly enough, though when he continued, his voice held a stricter edge, "This information is not to be shared with anyone else however."

"No, sir! I wouldn't, I promise." The small figure was practically quivering with anxiety now and Ichigo reached out to pat it on the shoulder.

But before he could touch it, the negator, in a move that looked completely inhuman, spun towards the window and stood bolt upright, thrusting its hands out ahead of it, palms flat and fingers bent back. Its head rose until it was looking at the ceiling, exposing the fleshy lower part of what was left of its face. The odd folds of skin seemed to inflate as it opened its slitted mouth and began to scream. In the same breath, a similar sound started up outside, and that one Ichigo remembered from the one and only time someone had tried to breach security at the 6th. Static mod soul alarms.

That time it had been a drunk from the 5th with no sense of direction. This sounded more serious. Mechanical alarms joined the chorus of wails, echoing and re-echoing all along the northern wall, all of them periodically drowned out by the rapidly rising wind and occasional roll of thunder.

"Aizen?" Ichigo asked through the din, though that didn't seem right either.

"Unlikely," Kyōraku said, peering out into the rain. "However it could be trouble at the 10th."

Ichigo tried to remember his Seireitei geography. He was pretty sure the the walls of the 10th and 8th almost butted against each other in that direction.

Kyōraku was muttering under his breath. A moment later he said, "Lisa, status reports?" She was gone before he'd finished saying her name. The negator, which was still making that weird siren-like sound, was next. Kyōraku flashed it a frustrated look and said, "I thought they'd fixed the sensitivity problem. Please do something, Nanao-chan, before we all go deaf."

Ise hunkered down next to the negator. Ichigo caught a flash of kidō and the sound it was making cut off abruptly. It staggered a little and Ichigo reached out to steady it.

This time he made contact, and almost jumped out of his skin when his fingers brushed against its bare neck. Unlike almost everything else in Soul Society that he'd ever touched, the negator's skin felt dead, empty. Like there was nothing there even though he was touching it. The closest anything came to the sensation was Byakuya's scarf and the first time he'd touched that, he'd dropped it and had to fight the urge to go and scrub his hands.

This was worse. Ichigo found himself holding his hand out away from his body as though he had something nasty on his fingers, and how freaking rude was that? He made himself reach out again and this time deliberately touched his fingers to the negator's skin. Objectively it was warm and smooth, just like any other skin, but when Ichigo closed his eyes to feel it better, that was all he could feel. Warmth and smoothness. He couldn't sense it. The kid glowed with the normal low level of reiryoku, but he couldn't feel it, couldn't touch it. It wouldn't respond to him. Wouldn't come at his call.

Fascinated by the new discovery, he reached out for Ise, who was still crouched the other side of the little creature, and laid a palm flat against her cheek. Now that was how things were supposed to feel. Alive and vibrant and buzzing under his hand, and if he called-

A scream rang out and something punched Ichigo hard in the chest. He flew, feet lifting from the ground with the force of the blow, and smacked into the wall. With a groan, he dropped to hands and knees, opening watering eyes and fighting to find enough breath to say, "What the fu-?"

He got no further than that.

Kyōraku, reiatsu rising around him as powerful as the storm outside, stood protectively over his lover and the little negator, his twin zanpakutō drawn and his expression murderous. Beside him stood Renji, hands raised, and Ichigo could see the remains of a kidō around them. It was him who'd hit Ichigo then, but why?

"Abomination," Kyōraku snarled, and Ichigo started to get really worried. What had he done, what had...

Ise!

The negator had her cradled in its arms, and her face... Oh crap. Lividly painted on one cheek was a red and blistered burn the exact size and shape of Ichigo's palm.

He'd done that? With his hand?

She was shaking. Her skin pale and damp with sweat. He'd really hurt her. "I'm sorry," he said, going to move, thinking maybe he could help.

Kyōraku shifted a single step forward, swords lifting, and Ichigo was left in no doubt that any attempt he made to get near Ise would end in his death. He froze, heart thundering in his ears.

He hadn't known it was going to do that. He'd never tried it with anything alive before. After what had happened with the barrier, he'd hardly used the ability at all before...

Memory snapped back into place, a bit fuzzy around the edges but complete, Ichigo could feel it.

Yesterday... in the graveyard. When Aizen was coming for him with his hand raised, expression twisted into something dark and revolting, and Ichigo had raised his own hands to try and absorb as much of Aizen's kidō as he could.

What the hell had it done?

What the hell had _he_ done?

"Can you heal her?" Kyōraku was saying, his voice angry and pained. Ichigo wanted to apologise, grovel, something.

A shaky, "I'm not sure, sir," came from the negator, whose hands Ichigo realised were glowing with the faint green light of a healing kidō.

Without a moment's hesitation, Kyōraku sheathed his swords, swept down and scooped Ise into his arms. The next moment, he was out through the door and gone.

The negator scurried after him, head down. In the doorway it stopped, glanced back towards Ichigo and Renji, and bowed. "Please," it said, "you need to leave now. Kyōraku-taichō won't want you here without him." It made to continue, hesitated, and added, "And you wanted to know my name. It's Hanatarō. Yamada Hanatarō."


	4. Take it to the Sky

**[Chapter warnings: Off-sceen gang rape of a canon female character. Threatened rape of another (coded as a minor). Also discussion of rape as a weapon. Nothing explicit. Off-screen canon character death.]**

Taichō was gonna to kill him. No, screw that. _Byakuya_ was gonna kill him. And he'd deserve it. Less than five minutes it had taken for the kid to blow an alliance going back three generations sky-fucking-high, while Renji sat on his ass and let it happen.

With a snarled, "With me," Renji strode from Kyōraku's office, ignoring both Take's snapped, 'Sir,' as he went past and the guards coming down the corridor, and headed for the main doors, not waiting to see if Ichigo was following.

It wasn't the injury. Okay, that'd been nasty, but it'd heal. It might not even scar. It was the way Ichigo had done it. Eaten away at her face with his hand.

Fuck. Renji suppressed a shudder, straightened his shoulders and kept walking.

He'd seen pictures of what Quincy could do; Byakuya had made him read the books after what the kid had done at the arena; but a picture and seeing it actually happen – two totally different things.

Those hands were on his dick last night!

But they still belonged to Ichigo, and one look at the kid's face said he hadn't meant to do it. He'd been as upset as anyone else. Scared. Renji hadn't missed the horrified look he'd shot at his own hand as he'd put two and two together and realised what he'd done.

Within a couple of minutes it became obvious that they were being followed, the numbers slowly growing until there was a small mob on their tail by the time they reached the gate. Renji's fingers ached to draw Zabimaru and take out some of his tension in the simple bite of metal into flesh. But he couldn't. Not here. If taichō was gonna stand a chance of fixing this, Renji needed not to make it worse.

When several guards stepped out from under the portico to block the way, Renji swallowed back a surge of adrenaline and put on his best fukutaichō manner. "The 6th doesn't want trouble with the 8th," he said, standing firm, legs apart and strong, one hand loose on Zabimaru's hilt, the other gripping the sheath. "Let us pass and nothing has to happen."

One of the guards swaggered forwards, the wind whipping at his shihakushō. "Word says your third put his hands on our Nanao," the guy said and his words were echoed by growls and shifting of feet around them.

Renji's heart sank. This had just gone from an inter-unit pissing contest to 'your man touched our woman', and those arguments never ended well.

"Like you never wanted to," a voice came from behind him. The guard hastened into a salute as the crowd parted to let Yadomaru Lisa through. Renji had never been so happy to see the bolshie fukutaichō in his life. She arrowed a disgusted look at him. "Taichō thought you might need help getting out. I considered just letting them have you and but, hell, I'd just have to find someone to clean up the mess."

Feeling well and truly put upon, Renji bore it all with unbowed shoulders, and promised vengeance on Ichigo for the humiliation when they got home.

Yadomaru stepped closer, her voice dropping to a more personal level. "Plus he wanted you to know it looks like someone's doing a run on the 10th. Probably the third seat from the 11th, but it's all up in the air right now.

A run on the 10th. Crap. Not that it wasn't expected with the way Ōtoribashi had been playing favourites, but if there was an overspill onto the streets, they were gonna end up right in the thick of it on the way home. No wonder Yadomaru was so happy to throw them out.

"Right," she said, raising her voice. "Get that gate open, there's trash needs tossing." And with that they were unceremoniously evicted.

With night falling, lightning arcing, and potential rioters on the streets, Renji made an executive decision. "We're taking it slow," he told everyone. "Don't even try shunpo'ing, not in this. I don't wanna have to scrape you off the walls when you end up getting lost. And if we run into any trouble, keep yer head down, keep to the shadows and keep moving. We do not, I repeat, _not_ want any trouble with the 11th. Got it?"

A chorus of, '"Sir, yes, sir,' met his words and, reassured that none of them were going to do anything really dumb, he turned his attention to Ichigo.

The kid was standing to one side, head down, scowling at his feet. Renji rested a hand on his shoulder and said in a low voice that kept things between the two of them, "I'm not gonna say anything 'cause I'm pretty damn sure you know what you've done, but you've gotta shake it off. It's gonna be dangerous out there tonight and the guys are gonna need you to watch out for them. We're all in this together."

Ichigo looked up, his eyes were still sad and tired, but he nodded. Then, as though registering where he was and who he was speaking to, he stood up straighter and dipped a quick shallow bow. "I'm there. I won't let them down."

"Never thought you would," Renji said, giving the shoulder a pat before letting go. He raised his voice. "Right, let's go."

They made it all the way to the far end of the 8th's grounds before they heard raised voices and the clash of steel coming from up ahead. Renji waved the others to a stop then leapt for a nearby roof and, keeping low, went to see what they were up against.

The road ahead was effectively blocked by a large sprawling crowd of well over a hundred shinigami and civilians, drinking and fighting and generally making a nuisance of themselves. He didn't recognise any of them, but then he had no reason to. They were probably a mixed bag of troublemakers. Every unit had them, even the 6th, and though Renji did his best to make sure none of his people joined in when a run went down, it was almost impossible to stop. For some, it was like a fever got a hold of them, and they went from being okay kind of guys you might have a drink with to thugs with no thought for anything but the fight.

Then there was the 11th, and they just started out that way.

Renji glanced back at Ichigo and their escorts, and for once really wished they were all men. It didn't often make a difference. In fact mostly he preferred a mix, the girls kept the guys from acting like idiots, and he'd rarely hit a situation where the women couldn't match the men blow for blow and even come out ahead. But the situation they were heading into was one of them, because these weren't hollows they were facing.

Hollows didn't care if the shinigami they fought were male or female. They were all just extra tasty soul snacks as far as they were concerned. Other shinigami were another matter altogether and a mob of them were different again.

Between him, Ichigo and their escorts, they were six guys and four women, and apart from Take, whose hair and build were almost indistinguishable from a man's in the gathering dusk, all the women looked like women. Caught by a mob, especially if some of the nastier elements had come out to play, they were going to be extra vulnerable.

They should turn back. That would be the safe thing to do.

But it would also drive them up against the walls of the 8th and if this crowd moved or grew, they'd be trapped. And then the only way out would be through, and even Byakuya might run out of funds for reparations if Renji had to bankai their way through a crowd of rioters.

Nope, there was nothing for it, they were going to have to take the risk.

He slid from the roof and returned back to Ichigo and the others.

"Close ranks," he said. "We're going up on the roofs. Take, you and the girls stay in the middle." He held up a hand before she could even start. "I'll fight it out with you later, just do as you're told for now. I don't wanna have to explain to taichō that you got snatched and gang-banged by the 11th." That shut her up, as he hoped it might.

No such luck for Ichigo. "Why don't we just go back?"

Irritation rising, Renji snapped, "Ya wanna risk your life on them letting us back in, 'cause I reckon they're more likely to stand on the walls and laugh when this lot catch up with us, don't you?"

Ichigo took a step back, eyes wide, and, damn it, the kid was still too tied up in knots about Ise to think clearly. Renji wished with everything he was that they hadn't come out tonight, that there hadn't been a storm, that there hadn't been a riot...

Crap, yes, of course, that was the way to do it.

Thinking fast, he plotted the route in his head. In over the back wall, cross over and past the barracks, circle round the main block and then out the other side near the main gates. No one would be taking notice of the alarms, not tonight. In fact, they probably wouldn't be the only ones doing it. The 10th's stores would be ransacked by morning if Madarame hadn't thought to stick guards on the quartermasters.

"Change of plans," he said. "Not the roofs. We're cutting through the 10th."

"Lieutenant, its illegal to- !" Ganbe, the youngest of his own escort, began, only for Take to interrupt with a well-timed, "Shut it, kiddo. Fukutaichō's right. Legal or not, it's the last place anyone's gonna be watching and so long as we're quick and quiet, it's gonna be a hell of a lot safer than trying to go through that mob."

Renji nodded his thanks at her. Ganbe was right about it being illegal. Entering another division's grounds without permission was technically trespass punishable by a steep fine. Except, because the only people who normally did it were wannabes doing a run on the captain, anyone who got caught was normally killed on principle. It made casual trespass a risky venture, so they'd need to be on their guard, and it was still safer than taking on a mob head-on.

He drew Zabimaru and quickly cleansed the two mods they had with them, pocketing the pills for reuse later. If they were going to break the law, there was no point having more witnesses around than they had to.

Inside the grounds of the 10th it was ominously dark and quiet. Renji stuck to the walls, moving fast from cover to cover, until he had no choice but to break for the first set of buildings. They too were deserted, and he was starting to get a bad feeling about what they might find at the centre.

The first sign of trouble was someone screaming. It came from a building across the big training field, close to the main offices.

The second it started, Renji grabbed a hold of Ichigo's arm and was still only just in time to stop the kid from running towards it. He turned on Renji, his face the picture of betrayal. "You're not gonna tell me we're just leaving her," he accused, because, yeah, that was a woman screaming and that was men laughing and, fuck, Renji didn't have to be a genius to work out what was happening over there.

Sadly, he was no stranger to this sort of thing. When he was a kid, the shinigami didn't always come round the camps recruiting, and most of the guards could be persuaded to turn a blind eye to girls, and the prettier boys, going missing for a decent bribe. Some of the kids even survived the experience, like Fumiko, though she'd never been the same afterwards.

The woman screamed again and he couldn't do it. He couldn't move on and let this happen.

Turning to the escorts, he said, "I'm can't make this an order, since technically it's against the law, but Ichigo and me are going in to get her out. Those who want to help, come with us. Those who don't head home. No one's gonna hold it against you."

He got three volunteers, one of whom was Take which came as no surprise at all, and leaving the others to move on without them, they set off across the dark deserted training grounds.

The building in question was a indoor training block of some kind. When they were about twenty feet away, Renji gestured for a halt and started working up a concealment bakudō. It wasn't a high level kidō, but it did take a lot of concentration and Renji's head was anything but clear and calm.

After two false starts, Take put a hand on his arm and said quietly, "Let Sou do it. He's a dab hand with kidō and that way you can worry about getting whoever that is in there out."

Renji glanced over at the grey-haired Sou, who was looked scared but determined. He had a daughter, Renji remembered, no wonder he wanted to help. "Okay, fine," he said. "Can you keep us covered while we move?"

The man nodded. "But please don't run too fast," he whispered. His reiatsu was already building and Renji had time for a moment of panic that it might be noticed before it snapped into the spell and the world around them took on the rainbow hues of a kyokkō.

The four of them crept towards the back of the building since the kidō might impede sight but it wouldn't stop anyone from hearing them if they made a noise. The screaming had stopped and Renji very much hoped it was because the guys'd finished and not because their victim was dead.

Guttering light shone from one of the windows and Renji peered through, quickly assessing the situation inside. A group of five men dressed in hakama and not much else sat towards the front of the large room in a rough circle. Several jugs of sake stood around them, one or two already empty and lying on their sides. They looked to be playing cards, and seemed pretty deeply engrossed. Of the woman, there was no sign.

A quiet choking sound came from beside him and then Ichigo said, "Are they from the 11th?"

Before Renji could answer, Heishi, the fourth member of their group, hissed, "No, the 10th. Bastards."

"They did that to their own fukutaichō?" Ichigo said, and his voice was loud enough that one of the men glanced over in their direction.

Renji slammed a hand over Ichigo's mouth, all the while thinking, 'Not Matsumoto, please not Matsumoto.' And then he spotted her. In the shadows against the far wall and almost obscured from his line of sight by the men. She was huddled into a ball and looked to be clutching what was left of her shihakushō to her chest, only... No, that wasn't her uniform it was another person. A tiny one with pink hair.

Ah, fuck.

"She's got Yachiru with her," Take murmured, and rather than upset, she sounded satisfied. "Oh, good girl."

Apparently Take was seeing something here that Renji was missing. He cocked a quizzical look at her.

"She's protecting her. If they've got both of them in there then Yachiru was up for the same thing Rangiku just got. But it looks like she fought them just hard enough to take the edge off for a while. Buy them some time."

That... sounded just like the sort of thing Matsumoto would do, and looking at the guys, Renji could see that they all had minor injuries of some kind. Black eyes, scratches, one of them had a bandage wrapped round his hand as though he'd been bitten.

Renji turned round and slid to the ground, leaning back against the building. "Right," he whispered, "here's the plan." Then he realised Ichigo was missing.

The next second a crash came from the other side of the building and a voice bellowed, "You fucking bastards!"

"Renji," Take said, voice horrified, "He hasn't got his zanpakutō."

"Give him a second," Renji said, then a familiar surge of reiatsu rippled past, followed by the sound of steel hitting steel and the dull thunk of body parts hitting the ground. "Now he has."

"We should go help," she said, a moment later.

"Possibly." It was actually pretty tempting to let Ichigo go it alone, but if anything happened to him, he'd have to carry his body home and explain to Byakuya how he ended up dead while Renji was still very much alive.

On the other hand, if Ichigo went home alive with Matsumoto Rangiku and Yachiru in tow, Renji was still going to have to explain how come he was in the 10th's grounds running off with shinigami who, by now, probably rightfully belonged to Madarame Ikkaku.

Life, he thought, was always full of difficult decisions.

"Sir?" Take said, and she was getting jumpy. Her charge was in there, laying about himself with a shikai'd zanpakutō and hacking bits off rapists, and fuck it, why should he have all the fun anyway.

Renji nodded, and then the three of them rose as one and went to help Ichigo the quick way – straight through the wall.

* * *

"Fuckers!" Matsumoto hissed, kicking the torso of what had once been one of her attackers. Renji watched her, knowing that, as much as he wanted to leave, it was important she did this. Knowing they were all dead was bound to help her sleep nights. Or at least Fumiko had always told him she wished the guys who'd raped her were, so he guessed it was the same thing.

Yachiru was unconscious. Apparently Madarame hadn't come alone, he'd brought his fourth and fifth seats with him and Ayasegawa had used that nasty reiryoku leeching shikai of his to take Yachiru out of the fight. Excellent strategy, though going by what Matsumoto had said, the whole had been pulled off brilliantly first to last.

For one thing, they'd had inside help. As Renji had suspected, Ōtoribashi had been playing favourites and several of his lower ranking seated officers had legitimate grudges. Shit, fond as Renji was of Matsumoto's assets, he wasn't convinced she was fukutaichō material and her reputation for laziness went far beyond her own unit.

When the storm broke that evening, Madarame had started his run, using the cover of lightning and rain combined with the shikai of his fourth seat, Ichinose, to keep them concealed. They'd come in over the wall close by the 8th, which must have been what set off Hanatarō and the static mods over there. With all the chaos, the interlopers were inside the main building before anyone noticed and caught Ōtoribashi with his pants down, literally.

How Matsumoto had been caught out remained a mystery, though Renji'd lay money it probably had to do with sake. Her reputation for drinking was second only to her laziness.

"I still don't get why they'd do it," Ichigo said. He was letting Heishi bandage a nasty cut on his forearm where one of the rapists had got in a lucky strike before Renji had cut his head off. "I mean she's theirs. Look at those guys at the 8th tonight and how protective they were of Ise."

"If Kyōraku-taichō was taken out, the same thing'd happen to her and Yadomaru," Take said, "or they'd try anyhow. It makes the new guys feel good when they take over, makes them feel like they're in charge. They kill the captain straight off, it's safer that way. Then torture or rape the higher ranking officers before killing them, and then have fun with everyone else who doesn't fall into line."

Ichigo was still looking confused. Well, horrified and confused. Renji clarified the situation, "The new captain hauls in each of the shinigami in the division and gives them a choice: sign up with him, discharge from the Gotei 13, or a tanto. You can guess what that's for, right?" At Ichigo's dumb nod, he continued, "Most of them'll take the first option. They don't care who they serve and with a change at the top, there's always a chance of advancement.

"Some'll take the tanto, especially those who've been using the old regime to their own benefit. Lovers, brown-nosers, all those sycophantic hangers on who didn't see the change coming and swap horses fast enough. They do it 'cause they know if they try to stay, they get caught. All those people they pissed off'll turn on them, and then they'll really wish they'd taken option three."

"But what about option two? Discharge," Ichigo asked.

"And risk the 12th getting you?" Heishi said, doing a last turn round Ichigo's arm and tying the ends of the bandage off.

"No division, no citizenship, no legal protection, remember," Renji said, standing up as Matsumoto came over to join them. She was moving stiffly and her eyes were red but her cheeks were dry and the mishmash of clothing they put together for her from their own at least covered the important parts. If you ignored the bruises, it could just be a hang over. "You ready?" he asked.

"I think so." She looked around sadly, her bottom lip protruding. "I used to like this place. Rose and me had some great times here. I'm going to miss him."

"Then try to remember the good parts," Renji said. For what she'd gone through, she seemed pretty with it. Maybe she'd fall apart later. He seemed to remember something about trauma sometimes taking time to sink in.

They had to pass the front gate on their out. It had a new decoration; the severed head of the old captain, dangling from a pole by its long blond hair. Renji did his best to keep Matsumoto distracted but he was pretty sure she noticed anyway. You'd have had to have been blind not to.


	5. Zeropoint Ignition

"I got a petition," Yoruichi announced as she entered his office. As usual she was out of uniform, thought the amber kimono she was wearing suited her very well, Byakuya thought. It matched her eyes. "Your name was on it."

She was referring to the demand, jointly signed by all the captains, that Urahara either challenge for a captaincy or relinquish his zanpakutō. Since being without the latter was tantamount to suicide, it was a way of forcing the man's hand. Byakuya purposely didn't glance at the corner of the room where Zangetsu was standing. He should perhaps have sent it with Renji, but if Aizen had done something to manipulate Ichigo's mind, it could be very dangerous to arm him.

Rather than answer Yoruichi's question, he gestured her to a seat and poured her a drink. It was late enough in the day, and with the chill in the air they could both use it.

"You're not going to say anything?" she asked as he handed it over. She sniffed it delicately, took a sip and smiled. Like Renji, she had a sweet tooth, and this sake was a rather excellent nigori with a lovely honey undertone. "Nice," she said.

"Thank you," he replied, taking a sip of his own. "I'm not sure there is anything to say. You knew it would come."

She lowered her bowl into her lap and stared down at it. "I did, though I'd hoped it'd take a bit longer."

"If he's had bankai for-" Byakuya began, only for Yoruichi to rudely speak over him. "I'm giving him the 2nd."

Giving... him... the 2nd. Byakuya floundered for understanding, for words, for a reason, and failed miserably on all counts. "Why?" was all he could think of to say.

She looked up, her golden eyes determined. "Because I don't need it. I still have the onmitsukidō and my clan title." She waved a hand. "And anyway, it's only a formality. I'll still be running everything. It just stops you gang of bullies from hassling him when he's trying to work."

"I can't imagine that anything he's doing is more important than running the 2nd division," Byakuya said, still sorting through his reactions. Confusion was giving way to anger. "That division has been led by the Shihōin for over ten thousand years," he said, "and you would give it all over to a commoner on a whim? What do the elders say about it?"

She made a disgusted sound. "They think I'm nuts. I don't care. I'm head of the clan and they'll just have to put up with it."

There was more, Byakuya could see it in the way she was sitting. In the way she was swirling the sake round and round in the bowl. "What price did you agree to?" he asked after several moments of silence.

She glanced up at him, and her mouth was pulling in an odd shape as though she was having to force herself to speak the words. "I promised it would be for a limited time only, and that the clan would claim the division back as soon as my child came of age."

Byakuya's heart leapt into his throat because that could mean only one thing. "You want to formalise our relationship." Dear heavens, he thought, don't let any of the Kuchiki clan elders catch wind of this. If they did, they would hound him without mercy. Though if she did decide to press ahead, there would be little he could do to prevent it. According to the contract, hers was the final word on the timing of the formalities.

"It was the only way they'd back off and leave me alone," Yoruichi argued. "And it's not like I want to live with you, that'd be a disaster and we both know it. We only get on as well as we do because you're here and I'm there."

He certainly couldn't argue with that. "But if we marry," he began, only to have a scratch come at his door. He blinked back annoyance and said, "Please, I did give orders not to be interrupted but some things..."

"Go ahead," she said, "but pass me the bottle first."

She took it, and herself, decorously off to ponder the bookcases while Byakuya straightened his haori and called, "Enter!"

It was Koniwa. Byakuya did his best to hide his irritation but if this was a simple matter then he would be having words with the third seat afterwards. As the son of a lesser noble house, his manners were normally better than this.

"Apologies for interrupting, Kuchiki-taichō," Koniwa said with a punctiliously precise bow. "There is a matter afoot which I thought should be brought to your attention."

Put like that, it may be something important. Byakuya dipped his chin, waiting for him to continue.

"Firstly, we've had word from Abarai-fukutaichō," Koniwa reported, to all intents unaware of Byakuya's immediate perk of interest at the news. "He's located Kurosaki-sanseki and they have continued on to the 8th as you commanded."

That was a relief. Ichigo was never difficult to find when he was so angry but then that was a significant part of the problem. He was also ridiculously easy for others to find, like Aizen, and yet again the boy had left without his escort.

Knowing they were safe at the 8th was a great weight off Byakuya's mind, a feeling that increased tenfold when Koniwa continued on to say, "Also, there is talk that Madarame-sanseki from the 11th is challenging Ōtoribashi for the 10th."

And yes, that was worth interrupting for. Byakuya always liked to know when a run was being made, since a successful one sometimes galvanised others into action. It also meant that Renji and Ichigo probably wouldn't home tonight. If they had any sense, they would stay at the 8th until morning when the streets would be safer.

"Thank you, Koniwa," he said. "See that security is tightened."

Koniwa dipped a bow. "Already in hand, sir." A particularly bright flash of lightning drew all eyes to the window. "They chose an interesting night for it," Koniwa observed, before bowing again and leaving.

He wasn't wrong, Byakuya thought, as he watched the sky brighten again and again. If Madarame had taken Ichinose with him, he had chosen the ideal conditions for his attempt. The way the fourth seat's shikai manipulated light would compliment the natural sensory confusion of a storm perfectly. Ōtoribashi must look to his laurels this night or risk losing them. And his head, Byakuya thought, suppressing a shudder.

"And then you ask why I didn't want Kisuke to challenge. You're a hypocrite, Kuchiki Byakuya." Only Yoruichi could get away with calling him names like that.

Refusing to rise to her bait, he glanced over at her and cocked an eyebrow. "Strong words. On what do you base such an unlikely accusation?"

With a harrumph she returned to the desk and took her seat again, giving the sake bottle a shake before putting it down. "Because you've never had to do it yourself." She waved a dismissive hand at him. "I know, I'm no better, but at least I'm trying to do something by giving Kisuke the 2nd.

"You, on the other hand, are simply going to push your baby birds out of the nest." Legs crossed and hands resting tidily on her knee, she fixed him with a serious look. "Why would you do that, boy? Do you want to see Renji's head hanging from a pole in fifty years?"

Even the thought of it made Byakuya feel nauseous, not that he would allow Yoruichi to see. "Renji is stronger than that," he insisted.

She nodded, eyes dropping for a second. "Perhaps so, but the principle stands. Allowing this free-for-all is barbaric."

This was a familiar argument between them, one that they never resolved, and yet Byakuya still found himself engaging. "Everyone takes their chances."

"No they don't. You, me, Kyōraku, we're safer than most, since we've got the power and wealth of our clans behind us. It is much harder for the common captains, and you know it." She levelled a finger at him. "They're prime targets for any up and coming shinigami, and sooner or later someone always gets lucky. And it is just luck half the time. Aikawa would never have taken the 7th if Ikkanzaka hadn't been injured."

"That was thirty years ago. He took the division and held it, and he's been a stable influence since." And a good one. In Byakuya's opinion, the 7th were better for the change.

"And during that time he has cut down at least four promising young shinigami who ran against him." Yoruichi threw up her hands in frustration. "Can't you at least acknowledge the waste? The rest of us are stretched thin, what with our ever growing duties in the real world, governing Rukongai and supervising the camps. Add in the increasing demand for security in Seireitei and there's not one unit that isn't struggling."

"Yet what you suggest would most likely preclude commoners such as Urahara holding a division at all," Byakuya put in, as she paused for breath. "Any system which relies on social connections, such as interviews or examinations, automatically favours those with established influence. It would also prevent the-"

"Removal of captains who've grown old and weak," she finished for him, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I've heard it all before. So what about Ukitake?"

It always came down to Ukitake. "What about him," Byakuya said, knowing even as he spoke that he had all but lost the argument.

"He's nuts. Certifiable. And a danger to his own people."

"The 13th runs efficiently. Their duties are always performed on time and to a high standard."

"Only because you, Kyōraku and Unohana keep helping! Argh!" Yoruichi slumped back in her chair. "I don't get it. I know you're fond of him, but seriously, he's going to wipe out that whole division one of these days, and he's only got worse since Kaien..." Shaking her head, she allowed the sentence to fade, uncompleted. "He should be retired. Forcibly if necessary."

She was right and yet still Byakuya could not bring himself to agree with her. Ukitake had been to Isshin what Isshin had been in turn to Byakuya. Mentor, teacher, sometime lover; the one who took a churlish boy and raised him up to be something greater. How could he now destroy such a man because age and grief had addled his mind a little. It would be dishonourable in the extreme.

He shook his head. "I cannot, in all conscience, instigate such a thing."

"I know," she replied, "but can you at least think about talking to Kyōraku about it, before he does accidentally slaughter his own division? You know as well as I do that it would destroy him to be brought so low."

Kyōraku was touchier on the subject than Byakuya, but he would maybe listen if Byakuya couched it in the exact right way. Perhaps he could point to Ichigo as the new generation ready to step into vacant shoes.

"I'll think about it," he conceded. She was right, in as much as Ukitake was dangerous to those around him. A shinigami who claimed to see ghosts had been almost amusing at first, until Ukitake had mistaken his third seat for a recently departed friend, and for some reason had tried to give him a proper soul burial. The resulting application of reiatsu had taken the man's head clean off his shoulders. And it had only grown worse since then. Everyone at the 13th tiptoed around their captain in case today was one of the days the dead had come to call.

"Thank you for even considering it," Yoruichi said, breaking him from his reverie. She was leaning forwards, elbows propped on the desk, chin resting on her hands. When she saw he was back with her, she smiled. "See it's not so bad. We can work together if we try."

That was an obvious attempt to drag them back to the previous subject. Byakuya allowed it, finding it more pleasant that dwelling on the 13th's problems. "Working together has never been a problem," he said. "It's attempting anything more than that which presents the difficulty."

"Well, you know what they say," she said decisively, leaping to her feet and coming round the desk at him.

Surprised by her sudden move, Byakuya pushed his chair back, the better to be ready to meet violence with violence should it be needed. Yoruichi took immediate advantage, slinking into his lap and draping her arms over his shoulders. When he simply stared at her, amazed by her temerity, she pushed her face up close to his ear and whispered, husky and hot, "They say, that you never know till you give it a go."

He probably couldn't have prevented his shuddered response had he tried. As it was, she had felt it and started laughing that dark rich chuckle of hers before he'd regained control over his fingers. Pushing his face into her neck, he nipped her gently and growled, "Devil cat."

The kiss followed as naturally as the sun followed rain. Her fingers slid into his hair and their mouths met, moving gently and carefully, exploring in a way that they had never tried before. It was good, Byakuya thought, chasing her tongue as it teased against his lips. Softer than Renji or Ichigo, but not as passive as the women he'd had before. Perhaps this could work.

She broke away after a minute or two with another laugh, shaking her hair back from her face, and he could see that she was flushing, her skin dampening. It was working for her as well. Some part of Byakuya felt inordinately proud of that fact.

Her tongue swiped across her lips and with a smirk, he pursued it, using his hand on her neck to hold her still and take control of the kiss. She tasted of honey and good alcohol. As the kiss deepened, a small moan buzzed against his fingertips and her hands clutched at his shoulders, tugging him towards her. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close, imagining he could feel the heat of her through layers of silk. Breath caught in his throat and he surprised himself by finding voice in a quiet rumble of enjoyment.

It brought them both back to themselves a little. They parted, each breathing heavily and Byakuya knew she had to be able to feel his burgeoning erection nudging against her. In his mind, he already had her pinned to his desk and was starting to unwrap her. But he couldn't. Shouldn't. Must not.

And neither must she.

"There is more here to consider than just ourselves," he managed, his head dropping forwards to rest against her shoulder. Her neck was too close not to press his lips against, and her fingers tugged at his hair a moment later when the kiss became harder, threatening to mark.

"I should go," she said, and this time it was her mouth that came searching. He met it and this time there was no stopping the urge to grasp her in his arms and swing her up and round until she was perched on his desk. Her legs parted for him and this time, when he urged her hips forwards, there was little enough between them that he could feel her. They both gasped as he ground against her, fingers gripping at the back of her kimono to hold her in place. Her arms looped around his neck and as he lowered her down, she drew him with her.

He'd never done this with Renji.

The thought hit him like a pail of cold water. He pulled away with a horrified noise, this time releasing her completely and moving far enough away that any temptation was gone. They stared at each other and Byakuya knew that her thoughts were as full of Soifon as his were of Renji.

He'd never done that with Renji because...

Because at work he was taichō and he had never allowed their sexual relationship to cross over into the office. Even after Ichigo had joined them and he saw them together sometimes, wrestling like boys or sneaking kisses, he had never allowed himself to join them.

He was Kuchiki-taichō and having human feelings like desire was not permitted.

Yoruichi was clearing her throat as she adjusted her clothing and slid off the desk. "This time I'm really going," she said, "before we end up doing something we both regret."

Surprised from his thoughts, Byakuya glanced at her. "Yes, yes, of course. I'm sorry, that was..."

"Good? Unexpectedly so?" she replied, and her eyes turned teasing. "You grew up pretty good, little Bya-bou."

He found a smile from somewhere, though it was probably tinged with sadness. "And you're not such an old stick, bakeneko."

The arrival of a hell butterfly prevented them getting bogged down in sentiment. Its silence when it settled on his finger suggested it was an 'ears only' message and he cast an apologetic look at Yoruichi.

She shrugged in understanding and said, "I was going anyway. Talk to your boys, Byakuya. Even if you're not giving them up, they need to be in on any decisions. I'll do the same with Soifon."

Now there was a conversation Byakuya was glad to be missing. The prickly Soifon could be very possessive of her beloved mistress at times. Sharing with her was going to be an interesting experience, though she would undoubtedly dote on any child until it was old enough. Which raised an interesting point.

"Just out of curiosity," he asked as she reached the door. "If you plan for Urahara's appointment to be temporary, what will he do when our child is old enough?"

She smiled wickedly at him as she pulled back the door. "Not sure. But I was thinking I might marry him to Soifon and make him a noble. They would hate it!" With a flash of her eyes and feet, she vanished, leaving Byakuya shaking his head and wondering if he was as insane as Ukitake to even consider marrying the woman.

A flutter on his finger reminded him that, despite this being a day off, he had business to deal with.

"Kuchiki Byakuya, 6th division captain," he said clearly, formally identifying himself.

The butterfly flapped its wings twice and then the message began, "For: Kuchiki Byakuya, 6th division captain. From: Kyōraku Shunsui, 8th division captain. Message begins.

"Your Quincy will have to be leashed, Kuchiki," Kyōraku's oddly belligerent voice boomed into the room. Byakuya frowned in confusion. Did he mean Ichigo? He had little time to wonder. "I don't know what Isshin was thinking reproducing with that witch. The races were never meant to mix like this. My poor Nanao-chan's face. Ask that abomination what he did to her, if he makes it back. I tell you, Kuchiki, either you control him or I will. And you'll not like my methods."

"Message over."

Byakuya blinked into the silence, trying to fathom the meaning of the message. That Ichigo did something to Ise seemed clear enough, and he would be sure to find out precisely what when Ichigo returned. But 'if he made it back', made it sound as if they had already left the 8th. Had Kyōraku thrown them out? Onto streets in the throws of a run on the 10th?

Concern fluttered in his gut.

He was being stupid, he reassured himself. There were ten of them and Renji was captain level. And Ichigo wasn't far behind.

Except Ichigo wasn't armed.

Byakuya's gaze shot to the corner where Zangetsu-

The space that had contained Zangetsu not half an hour before now stood empty. That could only mean one thing; Ichigo had manifested and he would only have done that if they were in trouble. Concern blossomed into fully fledged fear.

In his mind, Byakuya began mapping the route they might have taken. As he worked through the logistics, he headed for the door. A group of twenty should be a large enough deterrent, and he could spare at least three of that size, which meant they could get a decent spread on the possible routes.

He pulled the door aside, intending to summon Koniwa and set his plan in motion, only to find the man himself with a hand raised about to knock. Behind him, blond hair so wet it looked a dark brown, stood a shivering Ganbe, the newest of Renji's regular escort detachment.

Byakuya's hopes plunged. For Ganbe to be here meant something must have happened to separate him from the others, and nothing that could achieve that could be in any way good.

Some of what he was feeling must have been reflected in his face. Koniwa, whose frown rivalled a mountain pass in the depth of its furrows, said quickly, "It's not bad news, sir, at least not of the kind you're thinking, but it's not good either."

Byakuya took a step back to let them in and steeled himself.

* * *

As the hours passed and Ganbe's report was followed by others, Byakuya's worry gave way to irritation and thence to cold banked fear. Not for himself, though he would no doubt bear the brunt of their actions, but for Renji and Ichigo.

They had broken the law. And their transgression had been witnessed, noticed and noted by those with more power at their fingertips than Byakuya could raise in a century. Madarame would never have made his run on the 10th without sanction from his captain and, as the second longest serving captain in the Gotei 13, Unohana Yachiru would not have given her permission had she not wanted to make a point of some description. What it was, and what the larger machinations behind her move might be, Byakuya couldn't fathom as yet, though he suspected it probably had to do with the consolidation of power.

She had been there to witness Ichigo's invasion of the arena. She had to know the implications of what Ichigo represented. Abomination, Kyōraku had called him, and he wasn't wrong. Shinigami did not cross-breed. They might fiddle with their basic make-up, blurring the lines between hollow and shinigami, but the Quincy were a tinkering too far. What Isshin had done by breeding with a Quincy was so far beyond the pale that Ichigo's basic nature remained a terrifying unknown to most in Seireitei.

And now he had broken the law.

Nor was it a simple one. The rule against trespass was ancient, based on the old laws of the clans, and rooted in sovereignty and independence of power. To break it was not to simply transgress but to spit in the face of everything that made Seireitei what it was.

The generous might forgive Ichigo, thanks to his age and lack of experience. Renji, on the other hand, would get no such benefit. He knew the act was illegal, had acknowledged as much before witnesses and yet had still gone ahead. The full sanction of the law would be brought down on him unless Byakuya pulled in more favours than he may actually possess.

And that was before the whole issue of rescues was considered.

"Sir?" Koniwa appeared in the doorway, his eyes tired and expression stressed. "They're at the gates."

Byakuya resumed his study of the reports from several scattered intelligence agents and fortified his heart. "The guardhouse, Koniwa."

"They still have Matsumoto and Kusajishi with them, sir, along with several other refugees from the 10th."

Despite his best attempts, Byakuya couldn't conceal his wince. Still, he made his decision quickly. "Keep them all under tight guard. Full medical checks, and then contact the 3rd. Ichimaru may be willing to bid on the child. Make it clear there will be no impediment to any such approach."

"The others, sir?"

If he protected them, it would make the entire division culpable for Abarai and Kurosaki's impulsive act. If he threw them out, they would be at the mercy of the 12th. No doubt their vultures were already gathering.

"Stall," he said.

No ignoramus when it came to politics, Koniwa didn't argue. With a quick dipped bow, he ducked out, leaving Byakuya to rest his elbows on his desk and grind his fingertips into his temples.

If what the reports said were true, there was good reason to keep Matsumoto in the infirmary and he could fudge medical reports on the others. It wouldn't buy them more than three days but by then they might have found alternative placements. However that did nothing to help with his primary problem.

The first two butterflies he'd sent to Kyōraku had been returned unacknowledged. The third had a response from Yadomaru suggesting that unless Byakuya had something concrete to share about his Quincy, he shouldn't bother again.

Without Kyōraku's support, the others were going to be difficult. The slightest whiff of a breakdown of this alliance was going to bring trouble to Byakuya's door, therefore repairing this relationship became his top priority.

Perhaps then he would be in a position to prove to both his peers and Central 46 that he had not entirely lost control of his division.

Gathering his papers, he rose slowly to his feet.


	6. Operation Silverflame

By the time they arrived back at the 6th, the rain, which had mostly been scudding through in vicious squalls, had settled into a downpour. They trailed through the gate, dripping and shivering, a sadder sorrier bunch you'd have been hard pressed to find. Aware that there'd been eyes on them from the moment they past the edges of the 10th's stomping grounds, Renji wasted no time before ordering dry clothes all round, just in case someone arrived to interfere. He was still too late.

"Abarai-fukutaichō," Koniwa pronounced in flat tones as he, with a gaggle of nervous looking lower ranked officers on his tail, slipped in through the main doors of the gatehouse.

"Hey," Renji replied, tugging his damp shitagi away from his chest. Already suspecting something not good, he automatically tried to bluff his way through anyway. "Rotten night out-"

"You and Kurosaki are to be taken immediately to the guardhouse," Koniwa continued straight over the top of him. "I will be taking charge of our... guests."

Two of the officers peeled off to come and stand beside them while the others formed up around Matsumoto, the still sleeping Yachiru, and the other three 10th-ers they'd picked up on the way home. The smile Matsumoto cast back at him as they left was scared but brave.

Renji's heart sank, Ichigo's worried, "Renji?" going ignored as he parsed through what was happening and tried to make sense of it. Apparently Byakuya already knew about their foray into the 10th, not really a surprise given that nothing travelled as fast as gossip in the Gotei 13.

More to the point, if Renji and Ichigo were being locked up, Byakuya wasn't taking Renji's side. Also not a surprise, if Renji had allowed himself to consider the situation properly rather than believing in fairy tales. Like love triumphing over everything and stupid shit like that.

The trip to the guardhouse was short and thankfully unobserved by the unwashed masses; it was going to be difficult enough to come back from this as it was, without every one of his men having seen him being perp walked down the division grounds. Even so, as the barred door of the small cell clanged shut behind them, Renji threw himself on the single bunk and growled at the rough stone ceiling.

Self-deluding idiot.

It was the most complimentary thing he could find to call himself. After all, he knew for a fact that the Kuchiki _never_ broke the law. Period. No excuses, no extenuating circumstances. Of everything in Seireitei, its stuffy traditions and archaic values, to the Kuchiki, the law was sacred. It was a lesson Renji'd had drummed into him since he'd first taken his oath and joined the household. And one he'd been taught again when he'd been signed up to the 6th, because what went for the Kuchiki, also went for the division the Kuchiki led. Any shinigami in this division who made the mistake of breaking the law, had to expect to get the rule book not just thrown at them, but probably used to line their coffin and build their tomb. No one in the 6th broke the law and got away with it.

Not even their lieutenant.

Especially not their lieutenant.

On the upside, both he and Ichigo still had their zanpakutō and they hadn't been put in chains, so maybe there was hope yet. For them. He didn't hold out much for the 10th-ers. Had he saved them just to see them chucked out for the 12th to pick up? The thought made his guts curdle.

"I don't get it," Ichigo said. He was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, and apart from Renji's name, those were the first words that had passed his lips since they'd left the 10th hours ago. All during the long walk back he'd been silent, lost inside himself as far as Renji could tell. He hadn't enquired too hard since he knew how Ichigo could be if anyone got in the way of his brooding.

Still, that was a question, and it was Renji's policy to always answer Ichigo's questions if he could. "We broke the law, ergo we're in the nick."

Ichigo turned confused eyes on him. "But we saved – stopped... " His gaze cut sidewards and yet again Renji was reminded how damned innocent Ichigo could be at times.

"Stopped those bastards from raping Yachiru," Renji finished for him, noting the colour on Ichigo's cheeks at his blatant statement of the facts. "Yeah, we did, but doing it was against the law." He huffed a frustrated breath. "Fuck it, we broke the rules just going over the wall into the 10th, I told ya that at the time. If we'd kept our heads down, we might have just got away with it, but rescuing them, that sort of thing ain't gonna go unnoticed. And someone's gonna play it to their advantage."

Renji knew what he'd do. The 10th's new captain was no more a noble than Renji and probably had even fewer funds behind him. Since having the funds for bribes and pay-offs made all the difference between successfully holding a unit and seeing it stolen away within weeks of taking it over, in Madarame's place, Renji'd use this as an opportunity to gouge as much cash out of the Kuchiki as he could to build a decent financial base for his new leadership.

Course, if Unohana was still pulling his strings, it might end up being something else entirely, but either way, Byakuya was going to be as pissed as hell.

"I don't care," Ichigo was saying, a scowl now fixed solidly in place. "If rescuing them was against the law, then the law's wrong. What we did was right."

"Yeah, good luck with that," Renji said and rolled over, turning his face to wall, arms around himself to ward off the chill. Sometimes, when you couldn't do right for doing wrong, the best thing to do was nothing at all. Why couldn't he ever seem to remember that simple rule?

* * *

It was well over an hour later that taichō came to see them. And it was taichō; there wasn't a flicker of Byakuya in the cold man who entered the guardroom and sent the other shinigami away before closing the door behind them and staring at the pair in their cage.

Ichigo was on his feet, up close to the bars as if expecting taichō to open them and let him out. Renji was under no such illusions. Unable to nap, he'd spent his time berating himself and going back over what they'd done, trying to see how he could have changed the decisions he'd made and for the life of him, he couldn't regret any of them. But he wasn't dumb enough to think taichō'd see it the same way.

He did, however, remember his manners enough to sit up.

"I am given to understand there was an incident at the 8th, between Kurosaki and Ise Nanao," taichō said after a moment, his gaze flicking to Renji before coming to rest very firmly on Ichigo, "Was this accidental or a deliberate assault?"

Ichigo jerked in surprise. "An accident! I'd never have-"

His protest was smothered as taichō spoke straight over the top of him. "How precisely did it occur?"

Renji kept his mouth shut as Ichigo muttered and mumbled his way through an explanation involving the negator and the barrier and reiryoku that made only a little sense to him. All he really knew was what he'd seen, and that had been Ichigo putting his hand on Ise's cheek and the next moment, the woman was screaming. Renji'd knocked Ichigo clear across the room because Kyōraku had been about to take his head off his shoulders with one of those twin zanpakutō of his, and having concussion seemed preferable to having no head at all.

"Show me."

Renji blinked back into the here and now to find Byakuya holding a hand out to Ichigo. The kid looked nervous.

"I dunno how-" he began, only for Byakuya to reach through the bars and grab his hand, pressing their palms together.

"Show me," he repeated and that tone wasn't one that anyone could disobey.

Ichigo swallowed, rubbed the back of his other hand across his nose and then frowned. A second later Byakuya pulled his hand away and Renji just had time to see reddened skin before the fall of the shihakushō's sleeve concealed it.

Then Byakuya had his other palm raised to Ichigo's cheek. "Here?" he asked, his tone absolutely implacable.

Ichigo's gaze shot to Renji and he looked desperate, terrified. The kid hated hurting people, Renji knew and asking him to do this, cold-bloodedly hurt someone he cared about, was cruel. Except Renji could kind of see why Byakuya was doing it. They had to see how much control Ichigo had over this thing.

"Kurosaki." The note of warning in Byakuya's voice was chilling.

"I'm trying, okay," came Ichigo's reply, "It's just... I don't think it works there."

Byakuya stayed in position for another second, then seemed to accept that Ichigo was telling the truth and let him go. His palm was untouched, which was more than could be said for the first one Ichigo had handled. Renji spotted blisters on that palm before Byakuya wrapped his scarf around it and held it out to Ichigo again. "And now?" Byakuya demanded.

Glaciers moved faster than Ichigo when he reached out, but eventually their hands met. Renji could see the expression of revulsion on the kid's face as he touched the scarf and remembered the first time he'd picked it up. If Renji hadn't been as fast on his feet as he was, the priceless heirloom would have ended up trampled in the mud of the training ground, it was flung so far and so fast. As it was Byakuya'd had to have it properly cleaned, and he'd been testy for week afterwards.

And now he had it wrapped around a hand that was leaving behind dots of blood every time he moved. Whatever was going on was more important than that scarf. Had Kyōraku really broken off the alliance.

"It doesn't work," Ichigo said a moment later.

Byakuya dropped his hand and left the room without so much as a glance behind him.

As the door closed, Ichigo groped for the bunk and sank onto it beside Renji. "Fuck," he muttered eloquently, and Renji felt like joining him.

He was starting to see what Byakuya was up against. The nobles tended to stick together in their political alliances. The 2nd, 6th, 8th, 13th, pooled resources as much as anyone did in the Gotei 13. They trained together sometimes, fought alongside each other if needed. Their captains socialised, the lieutenants didn't try and kill each other on sight. Compared to relations with some of the other units, it was a downright friendly alliance. If Kyōraku was thinking of ending it because of what Ichigo had done, the 13th would definitely go with them; Ukitake and Kyōraku went back centuries; and Yoruichi-sama would be stupid not to go too, and the head of the Shihōin might be a lot of the things but a fool was not one of them. The 6th would be completely isolated. Isolated and with a fukutaichō and third seat who'd just pissed all over another captain's plot by trespassing and running off with his people.

Fuck.

Put like that, he could totally see why taichō was so mad with them.

But remembering Matsumoto's screams and the hesitant way she'd moved on the way back, he still didn't regret going in after her. Though part of him almost wished they'd gone through the mob instead of over the wall. At least that way he'd never have known what was happening until it was too late to stop it.

* * *

They were both asleep and the sun was high in the sky by the time the guards came for them. Renji kicked Ichigo awake and rolled to his feet, rubbing gritty eyes as the guards futzed about with manacles...

Hang on. Manacles?

"We going somewhere?" Renji asked as one of the guys and, damn it, he should know his name. He was is in the seventh squad under Maishima. Ta... Taki... something?

The blond looked up warily from under heavy bangs and said, "1st division, sir. There's to be a hearing."

A hearing? Crap.

"Renji?" Ichigo said, sounding worried, and Renji shot a disgusted look at him. If you couldn't face the consequences of your actions, you had no business doing them in the first place. Apparently he managed to put some of that into his expression because Ichigo flushed and looked away.

The external door creaked open and Renji craned his neck to peer through the bars, kind of hoping it was Byakuya come to tell them it was all sorted and they could go home now, but of course it wasn't. Koniwa looked a bit strained as he unlocked the cell but he nodded to Renji and cocked a half smile at Ichigo. Still, there was no mistaking his tone when he said, "I'll need your zanpakutō before we leave, please, gentlemen. And your badge, please, sir."

Renji dragged his lieutenant's badge from his arm, then reluctantly tugged Zabimaru from his obi and handed him over, feeling more naked without him than he ever would without his shihakushō. Silent and pale, Ichigo did the same with Zangetsu, and then the manacles went on and they were off to the 1st.

The rain had stopped sometime during the night and Seireitei was glaring white under a bright autumn sun. Renji found himself squinting at the unaccustomed light as Koniwa took them the long way round, though in truth they weren't out that long at shunpo speeds. Just long enough to dry off and warm up, which was a relief.

The 1st's third seat, Okikiba, met them in the antechamber to the sōtaichō's offices. There was no sign of Aizen, but then his rank had always been more of a security measure than a job as far as Renji could tell, a way for Yamamoto to keep the creep close whenever he wasn't off doing his research in Hueco Mundo.

"Abarai will remain here until summoned," Okikiba said, sliding open the door. "Kurosaki, follow me." Ichigo shot Renji a nervous backward glance as he entered, Koniwa behind him, and peering round them, Renji caught sight of several figures standing around the sōtaichō's massive desk before the door began closing. One of them was Byakuya, Renji thought, but there had been something off about him, something that rang wrong in Renji's mind. Before he could work out what it was though, the door clicked shut leaving him alone with the guards.

He sighed and found a stretch of wall to lean against. Hanging in the alcove directly opposite was an ink wash of a chrysanthemum, the insignia of the 1st, and Renji found himself caught by the irony of truth and innocence when applied to his current situation. At least no one was talking justice. That would just be adding insult to injury.

It probably wasn't more than ten minutes before the door slid back again and Okikiba gestured him inside. Renji went without protest, head up and ready to face whatever they threw at him. He knew he'd broken the law, it was just a matter of what the punishment was going to be, and he trusted Byakuya to make sure it wasn't anything too bad.

But Byakuya was only one voice amongst many, a fact brought forcibly home to Renji when he realised the identities of the others now standing in an orderly line behind the desk.

There were six of them altogether. Byakuya was over on the far left, with Koniwa just behind him, and Renji suddenly realised what it was he'd noticed through the half open door. Byakuya wasn't wearing his scarf. Without it, he looked as naked as Renji felt, his neck slender and too vulnerable. If he looked closely, Renji was sure he'd be able to see the remains of the marks he and Ichigo had put on that pale skin just yesterday. It was wrong, Renji decided. It was wrong, and he hated it. No one should be able to see so much of Byakuya but himself and Ichigo.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that his gaze skated past the next two people - an old guy Renji thought might be from Central 46 and the sōtaichō himself – and on to the final pair. There it stopped and Renji groaned internally as he caught sight of an unmistakable bald head. Crap.

Sure enough, far over on the right leaning against the wall and smirking like a loon in his captain's haori, was Madarame Ikkaku, along with Ayasegawa Yumichika hovering at his elbow.

The pair had long since gone from the camps by the time Renji'd been brought in, but the tales about them hadn't. Epic fights, the kind that went on for days and involved half the kids on one side or the other. Pitched battles against the guards, raids for extra rations, you name it, Madarame and Ayasegawa had done it – first, better and for longer than anyone else ever, if you believed the stories. Renji had come to Seireitei half convinced they were unassailable gods, only to have that belief crushed alongside all his others.

Madarame was a self-satisfied thug with illusions of grandeur. Sure he was powerful, and with Ayasegawa at his back, there was hardly anything the two of them couldn't successfully fight, but there was no subtlety about them. There wasn't even a whole hell of a lot of skill, and Renji knew skill when he saw it. Byakuya taking down a high level hollow was like poetry in motion; the way he combined sealed zanpakutō with shikkai with kidō, it was always a joy and a privilege to watch him. Madarame could only dream of having skills like that.

But, a small bit of his brain pointed out, Madarame was now Madarame-taichō, and what did that say about his skills versus Renji's – or lack of them.

Luck, Renji sniped back. Luck and planning and having an opponent who couldn't keep it in his hakama even when his life was on the line. A captain like that had deserved to lose his seat. Renji would have taken a shot at him himself if their zanpakutō hadn't been so well matched. No one took on a distance weapon with a distance weapon if they didn't have to. Madarame probably just got right up in Ōtoribashi's face and hit him with that massive bankai of his. Ōtoribashi would have gone down like wet rice paper.

The trouble was though, however much he wanted to look down on the guy, he had still actually done the deed. He was the one in the white haori while Renji was standing there in front of the sōtaichō wearing manacles, without even his fukutaichō's badge.

A poke in the back got Renji moving to go and stand next to Ichigo. The kid was still in one piece, though his face was set in an epic scowl. Renji gave him a quick look over and was about to write the expression off as sulking when he noticed the gloves. Beneath his manacles, and basic black like a shihakushō, they were wound about with strips of silvery white cloth that criss-crossed around his wrists and vanished up his sleeves. If Renji concentrated he could just catch a whiff of kidō about the things and Ichigo looked totally pissed about wearing them. What the hell?

Automatically seeking out Byakuya for answers, Renji found the captain of the 6th instead. Byakuya's expression was closed off, cold and uncaring, his gaze lowered, his eyes half-mast and and even though Renji understood the need for the distance, it still hurt that their lover could stand there and not show a single bit of emotion.

A heavy hand on his shoulder pressed Renji to his knees and he went willingly enough. It didn't pay to antagonise the type of power gathered here. Beside him, Ichigo seemed to balk for a moment before following Renji's lead and going down as well. Renji cast a glance at him and willed obedience into the kid. Just for now, just for today. Once this was over, they could say what they liked to Byakuya. In private.

"Abarai Renji, Kurosaki Ichigo," Okikiba began, "you have been accused of trespass in the first degree, destruction of 10th division property, theft, and instigating insurrection."

Eh? Renji's head came up at that last charge.

"How do you plead? Abarai?"

"Erm..." Renji havered trying to get into the game. The first charges were good calls, but that last one. No. No way were they pinning that on him. That wasn't a fine, or even prison. That was mutilation and dismissal, and Renji knew he damned well didn't deserve that. "To the first three charges, guilty. To the last, not guilty."

Okikiba nodded and turned to Ichigo. "Kurosaki?"

Okay, that was interesting. There was no extra charge of assault for Ichigo. Did that mean Kyōraku hadn't made it official? Or had they handled that in the brief meeting before? Were the gloves something to do with it? Maybe a way of sealing away his Quincy power?

"Guilty to the first three and not to the last," Ichigo said and though his voice was strong, Renji could tell he was terrified. He could feel it in the way Ichigo's reiatsu was tight and kinda shivery round the edges, like he was hanging onto it with everything he'd got. They were too far apart to touch, but Renji sent all the good vibes he could summon up in Ichigo's direction. Not that he wasn't a big bag of nerves himself.

"As you said, Kuchiki," Yamamoto-sōtaichō said, "they are in accord as to their misdoing."

"My men are not afraid of owning up to their mistakes." Taichō's flat tone suggested other division's men might not be as honourable, and it was enough to give Renji a little zing of hope. This wasn't Kuchiki-taichō throwing them to the wolves, this was Byakuya giving the greedy pigs what they thought they wanted, while protecting what was really important. Renji really hoped that included his and Ichigo's freedom. He didn't fancy spending a century or two in jail.

"Let's hope they're not afraid of paying for them either," the old Central 46 guy said and now Renji recognised him. He'd been the one to act as judge during his bout against Yamada. How the hell had he managed to forget that face? The guy still looked like he'd bitten into a lemon.

After getting the nod from sōtaichō, Okikiba started reading from his cheat sheet again. "For the charge of trespass on 10th division grounds, the standard fine for a seated officer is 15 thousand kan payable immediately. Also restitution is demanded by Madarame-taichō for the destruction of five unseated shinigami at a rate of 5000 kan per head."

Renji groaned silently. Even split between the two of them, this was going to wipe him out completely. He wouldn't have a kan left. Swallowing bitterness at decades' worth of lost savings, he kept listening.

"In addition, for the theft of two seated officer level prisoners, Madarame-taichō demands blood price; a public beating for Abarai-fukutaichō."

Beside him, Ichigo started, and Renji caught a glimpse of him, head up and staring at Okikiba, and he was going to say something. Fuck, he was definitely going to say something, and that would ruin everything. Sure Renji didn't fancy a beating, especially not the sort that he was going to be in for, but neither did he want another fine. He couldn't damn afford another fine! And if the alternative was to have it taken out of his hide, then so damned be it.

"You have something to say, Kurosaki Ichigo?" The censorious tones of the Central 46 judge.

"Yeah, I do. That's not fair! It was me who wanted to go rescue Matsumoto and Yachiru so if anyone gets punished for doing it, it should be me not Renji!"

Oh, damn the kid and his idea of honour anyway. If he wanted it, he could have it. Renji kept his head down.

"I see." And Renji was really starting to dislike that judge. He had sneaky written all over him. "So you disobeyed a direct order to undertake their theft?"

Hang on! That was something else entirely, and Ichigo wouldn't have the sense to rebut the accusation. Or even grasp the implications of not rebutting it.

Renji's conscience had his mouth speaking before his logical brain caught up. "I didn't order him not to go."

The judge's face looked far too satisfied for this to be anything but a set up. Beside him, Byakuya was as impassive as ever, though Renji fancied he could sense a level of agitation rising from him. Probably just wishful thinking. The sōtaichō seemed to be asleep, though you could never tell with the old boy. Even as he watched, those clever dark eyes slitted open and fastened on him in what Renji liked to think was approval.

"So you accept full responsibility for the theft?" the judge continued.

Renji nodded. "As Kurosaki's superior officer it was my place to order him not to proceed. I didn't do that and so the fault is mine and mine alone."

"Then the blood price is-"

"No." All heads turned as Byakuya spoke. He was still standing in the exact same position, his hands behind him, his head very slightly lowered, but now Renji could definitely feel his reiatsu snapping and flowing around him. Then eyes as hot as volcanic ash opened and met Renji's. "That is unacceptable. I will not allow my lieutenant to be subject to such a public spectacle."

And fuck. Seriously? It was sweet and all, but the timing sucked. Renji honestly and seriously did not mind getting whipped up on the hill. Sure it would hurt like hell, but he'd heal and knowing Byakuya, he'd get great treatment while that was happening. And as punishments went, it was quick and simple. So why were Byakuya and Ichigo going out of their way to make it drawn out and complicated?

Renji was just about to protest that he was right on board with whatever the judge wanted, when the sōtaichō said, "Agreed. Such a punishment would make his command untenable and since the crime does not merit a dismissal or demotion, the request is denied. However," The old man's gaze fell on Renji and with it, some of that raging hot reiatsu, "do not expect such leniency another time, Abarai-fukutaichō."

"No, sir," Renji managed through a rapidly parching throat. "Thank you, sir." The pressure lifted and Renji gulped down a few welcome breaths of air.

"Then the two prisoners-" the judge began.

"The child has already gone to the 3rd." Byakuya interrupted, his voice even but unequivocal. "If Madarame wishes to challenge for her, he must take the matter up with Ichimaru-taichō. The other is currently unfit for duty, however she... may be returned."

"What! NO!"

Crap. Renji stuck a leg out and managed to keep Ichigo on his knees at least.

"You have another suggestion, Kurosaki Ichigo?" Yamamoto asked, his eerily long eyebrows flaring out as he frowned at the display of bad manners.

"Erm..." Confronted by a direct question, Ichigo performed his usual trick of flailing ineffectually.

"Restitution," Renji hissed under his breath. "Offer restitution." And why the hell was he doing this again? Oh yeah, because otherwise Ichigo would end up doing something really dumb.

"Um... I'd like to 'offer restitution' for the 'stolen prisoner' Matsumoto." Renji could hear the quote marks in Ichigo's voice. Now he was remembering the language Okikiba used earlier. So long as he didn't get too fancy, he should be all right using that.

Okikiba had turned to Madarame and the two of them exchanged a few short sharp words. As they spoke, Ayasegawa's gaze met Renji's and he suddenly realised where the demand for blood price had come from. It hadn't sounded like a Madarame thing. He'd be more likely to demand a challenge match and then pound Renji's ass into the ground. Ayasegawa, on the other hand, was just the type to get off on watching someone bleed.

Renji curled a lip at him, not making any attempt to hide either contempt or disgust. A moment later, and before anyone else noticed their exchange, Madarame ground out, "I guess 150 thousand'll cover it." Renji couldn't help flinching at the number. That was one hell of a lot for basically nothing.

Ichigo didn't seem to think so. "Okay, yeah, 150, I can do that. But that means she won't be sent back, right?"

"The payment of restitution will void any interest Madarame-taichō might have had in the prisoner Matsumoto Rangiku, yes," the judge said and Renji really wished he could point out to Ichigo that that wasn't the same thing as saying she was safe.

Afterwards, he decided. He'd tell him afterwards. That'd have to do. Maybe they could stick their heads together and come up with a plan. So long as she hadn't been slung out already.

"Then I'll pay it," Ichigo said.

A quick exchange of glances and a nod from Madarame and the deal seemed to be sealed. Ayasegawa didn't look happy but he could go take a running jump as far as Renji was concerned.

"The final charge was 'instigating insurrection,'" Okikiba said, and Renji's ears perked up. This was the important one in a lot of ways. If this went badly, the result could be terminal for both of them.

Okikiba continued, "The details are as follows: that Abarai and Kurosaki did importune three serving members of the 10th division, convincing them to leave their posts and abscond to the 6th division in defiance of orders and their proper duties. Both accused have declared themselves not guilty of the charge."

He raised his head and looked to the sōtaichō. "How do you wish to proceed, sir?"

"I presume with witnesses for such a serious accusation." Yamamoto turned to Madarame, who was still lurking in the corner. "You have someone?"

Madarame strutted forward, chest out, fists gripping the front of his haori, and Renji all but rolled his eyes at the display. He'd give it a week. If something didn't take the idiot down a peg or three before then, the Gotei 13 didn't deserve to have decent captains.

"I do," Madarame said. "Wanna go get 'im, Yumi – ah, Ayasegawa-fukutaichō?"

His lieutenant levelled a disgusted glare at him, but went anyway. There was another door at the far end of the room, Renji realised, which made sense. No one who'd lasted as long in his post as the sōtaichō was going to have a room with only one entrance and exit.

The figure who entered wasn't even vaguely familiar to Renji. Little with longish dark hair, he had braids at the front just like Ayasegawa and feathers attached all over too. A wannabe, Renji realised. Was this one of their insiders?

Either way, the kid looked shit-stricken when he was ordered to go and stand in front of the sōtaichō.

Okikiba lowered his papers just enough to instruct, "Name, division and rank first, then tell us what you saw and heard."

"Usaka Rikichi, sir," the kid squeaked, bowing so low his nose was in danger of hitting his knees. "10th division, erm..." His eyes strayed to Ayasegawa and Renji immediately smelled a rat. "Acting fourth seat?"

Given the way he was trembling under the weight of the combined presences of the captains in the room, if that kid had enough reiryoku to be a seated officer at all, Renji'd eat Zabimaru. The same thing must have occurred to the others since several pairs of eyes honed in on Madarame. He, in turn, looked uncomfortable and glanced at Ayasegawa, who primped and said, in a bored sounding voice, "It's early days. Many of the ranks are still in flux. An ugly situation but what can you do."

As a reason, it sucked. As an excuse, if anyone wanted to believe, it would do. Renji guessed everything was going to come down to how good the kid was at testifying.

"Carry on, Usaka," Okikiba said when no one raised a protest.

Usaka glanced round the group again, and began in a flat toneless voice as if he was reciting something that he'd memorised, "Two hours after sundown last night I was standing on the walls of the 10th division where the main street intersects with the western road. I witnessed Abarai-fukutaicho and Kurosaki-sanseki speak to and encourage three members of the 10th division to abandon their posts and thence take them to the 6th division."

What Usaka was saying was basically true, in so far as they had met up with three guys from the 10th who'd done a bunk over the walls rather than sign up with Madarame's new regime. They'd wanted sanctuary and safety from the 12th who were prowling the streets and, with Ichigo glaring daggers at him, Renji hadn't really had much choice but to let them tag along. But they hadn't instigated anything with them. The shinigami had already decided to leave of their own accord.

Even so, that testimony had been fairly convincing and the judge looked very pleased with the performance. Interestingly, the sōtaichō not so much. Renji stole a quick glance at Byakuya, but his expression hadn't shifted in the slightest. Had he known about this, Renji wondered, when he'd allowed them to be brought down here? And if he had known, had he prepared any defence for them?

As though activated by Renji's silent questions, Byakuya stirred into life. He levelled a scathing look first at Madarame and Ayasegawa, and then turned his attention to Usaka.

"Where precisely were the 10th division shinigami when you first saw them?"

Usaka's gaze shot over to Ayasegawa again, and he said, "Coming out of the second barrack block, sir."

"And then?"

Another glance. "They erm... they talked to Abarai-fukutaichō, sir."

"This was within 10th division grounds?"

This time the look Usaka shot Ayasegawa was panicked. "I... erm..."

"Answer the question, if you please, fourth seat." The sōtaichō's voice promised instant and painful consequences if Usaka failed to follow orders.

The kid swallowed hard and said, "No, sir, they were outside the grounds. They'd already gone over the wall."

"So Abarai and Kurosaki did not persuade them to leave the grounds."

"They might-"

"That you saw," Byakuya interrupted, absolutely implacable in his pursuit of the truth of events.

Renji saw the sōtaichō nod and Usaka collapsed in on himself, shoulders sagging and head dropping. "No, sir," he said. "I didn't see them try to persuade anyone to do anything."

"If that is the case then we are done here," the sōtaichō said, and it was obvious that the episode was closed as far as he was concerned.

Madarame looked monumentally pissed off but he wasn't stupid enough to protest the sōtaichō's decision. He nodded sharply. "Yeah, we'll call it. So long as I get my cash for the other shi- erm, trouble."

"Kuchiki?"

Back in his previous impassive pose, Byakuya stirred just enough to say, "All monies will be deposited in the 10th's accounts by dawn tomorrow."

A jerk of his head and flare of nostrils was Madarame's only response to that and Renji wondered if maybe he was having problems getting at the division's assets. Renji wouldn't have put it past Ōtoribashi to have either drained them dry or wrapped them up in some kind of complicated legal shit. From all accounts, he was the type who'd gotten off on tying up all sorts of things, not just his fukutaichō.

Either way, it wasn't Renji's problem, though drumming up his half of the cash before morning might be.

Fuck it, he thought. He'd worry about that when he got home. Right now he just wanted these manacles off and to get back to the 6th, or better still, the manor. Some quality time alone with just the three of them would do wonders for his mood right now.

Thankfully things moved quickly after the sōtaichō'd had his say. Madarame and Ayasegawa, with Usaka in tow, left in a scuffle of elbows and unhappy glaring, leaving Renji and Ichigo to get released from their manacles and set off for the other door. Renji was halfway there and thinking he was home free, when the judge suddenly said, "Abarai's sentence for the theft. That was never truly addressed. Is it wise, I wonder to allow such a high ranking officer to get away with such behaviour?"

If he hadn't been looking at Byakuya when the judge spoke, Renji would never have known that he reacted, it was there and gone so fast. An expression of utter loathing and contempt flashed across Byakuya's face before it returned to its normal impassive contours. "I will take responsibility for my lieutenant's future good conduct," he said, and Renji got the sense of words being forced out from between metaphorically gritted teeth.

"Are you making that official, Yamamoto-sōtaichō?" the judge pressed and Renji was starting to smell a trap. With that sort of condition in place, if someone wanted to bring Byakuya down, all they'd have to do was trump up some charges against Renji, and Renji was under no illusions as to how easy that would be.

As Yamamoto opened his mouth to reply, Renji stepped forward and said, "If it's okay with you, sir, I'd rather stand my own parole."

Sharp eyes narrowed as they fixed on him, and Renji could almost hear the words, 'whipper-snapper' and 'delinquent' beneath the sceptical, "You would, eh?"

The judge's face twisted into a grimace and Renji just knew that he was scuttling several sets of plans by attempting this. He pushed on. "I would, sir. I have bankai and am preparing to do a run myself. It wouldn't be appropriate for Kuchiki-taichō to be held responsible for the behaviour of another captain."

The sōtaichō harrumphed irritably and Renji was put in mind of the old gardener up at the Kuchiki manor, the one as wrinkled as a pickled plum who spent his summer days sitting in the shade puffing on his pipe and issuing orders to his underlings. "Jumping the gun a little, aren't we," he said. "You're not a captain yet. Though I do see your point." Then he fell silent, his eyes closing, his hands folded atop his concealed zanpakutō.

Renji cut a quick glance at Byakuya, who was glaring at him furiously. Refusing to be cowed when he knew he was in the right, Renji glared back, until the sōtaichō perked up and thumped his staff into the ground.

"I have decided," Yamamoto said, "Since he is captain level, and unless otherwise incapacitated, Abarai will stand his own parole." His voice lowered and he added, "I will hold you to that, fukutaichō."

"Yes, sir," Renji replied with a respectful bow, "I will do my best for you."

"See that you do, boy," the sōtaichō said, and then more loudly, "Okikiba, see these gentlemen out. They've taken up far too much of my time today already."

Finally dismissed, Renji made a break for the door, aware of Ichigo close behind him and Byakuya and Koniwa following at a more sedate pace. Even so, he didn't stop until he was outside and could breathe the fresh autumnal air and shake off the sudden attack of nerves that always seemed to get him once everything was over.

Clinging onto the rail and turning his face to the sun, he didn't notice Ichigo coming to stand beside him until Ichigo said, "He used the scarf."

"Eh, what now?" Renji looked askance at him. "Used it for what?"

Ichigo held up his hands – his gloved hands. With those criss-crossed pieces of familiar looking silvery-white cloth.

Crap. "For those?"

"Lined them with it as well," Ichigo said with a nod. His face was blank, his eyes fixed on the middle distance, and Renji tried to imagine how uncomfortable the kid was feeling right now having his hands wrapped in the windflower silk he loathed so much, and failed.

"Guess you'll get used to it?" he said, not really believing what he was saying, but lacking anything more reassuring.

The look Ichigo turned on him made him think again about the reassuring bit. It wasn't often Renji was made to feel small by anyone but taichō; right then Ichigo managed it with panache. "Maybe," he said, without feeling, then, "I'll see you back at the 6th."

He stepped into shunpo, two guards going after him a second later, and just after that, Byakuya emerged from the 1st, his eyes colder than a midwinter night.

Great, Renji thought, just fucking great, and in a fit of uncharacteristic cowardice, he stepped into shunpo himself. Damn it, if Ichigo could skip the awkward walk home, then Renji could as well.

* * *

Hisana took one look at him as he came in through the main doors, narrowed her eyes and said, "He's in the infirmary. He wanted to check for himself that Matsumoto was all right." No surprises there then. If anything, Renji was surprised Ichigo had taken the trouble to check in at all.

He should probably head straight off after him, but seeing Hisana sitting there working reminded Renji of the conversation he'd had with Byakuya yesterday. He glanced in the direction of the infirmary, decided Ichigo would be safe enough on his own for a while, and turned back to Hisana. She had her head down and was writing in her report book again.

Everyone else seemed to be giving the office a wide berth, so he leaned against the desk, all ready to have a friendly chat, and then for the life of him couldn't think how best to raise the subject of the promotion. 'Do you fancy a job?' seemed a bit sudden, and pointless since Hisana had a perfectly good one already. And why the hell would she want to change it, especially in light of what had just happened at the 10th?

He was still racking his brains for an in, when Hisana suddenly put down her brush, looked up at him, and said, "I hope you're not going to make a habit of that sort of thing."

"Eh, what now?" Renji asked, frowning at her neatly folded hands and set expression.

"Trespassing," she said, closing the heavy book with a snap reminiscent of jaws and teeth and other things that grabbed things.

Renji glanced at it, swallowed hard and looked back up at Hisana. It was amazing how merciless those pretty eyes could be when she wanted, like chips of cold stone. Enough to chill anyone. She really was furious with him, and for good reason. Breaking the law didn't just reflect on Renji, it came back on everyone in the 6th. He'd known that going in and nothing had changed since.

And taichō wanted her to be Renji's lieutenant? He'd be lucky if she pissed on him if he was on fire after this.

"I have spent the entire morning squashing rumours about you," she continued, waving the book under his nose close enough to make him cross his eyes. "Half the division were taking odds you were already in jail. The other half think you're back to your old tricks." She huffed, dropped the book on the desk and said, more quietly, "Are you?"

Because of course she remembered.

Renji might have the rank, but Hisana had been in the 6th for almost twice as long as Renji had been alive. And back in the early days, when taichō had first brought him home, and later when he'd joined the division, she'd been there to see.

But more than that. Unlike everyone around him, or so it had seemed at the time, she'd understood. She'd got how hard Renji found it not to fight back, knew how much effort it took to swallow the shit the rest of the Kuchiki and their hangers-on put him through and not lash out because, for all her manners, Hisana was as much a gaki as Renji was. It was just that with Hisana, no one could tell. Everything about her, from the way she spoke to the way she walked, was pure class. She'd cracked it. She could pass.

Which was why Byakuya was right, she would make Renji a great lieutenant. And why he couldn't lie to her now.

"It weren't like that," he said with a sigh. If anyone could understand it'd be her. "I couldn't just walk away and leave 'em there."

She cocked her head and stared at him, expression softening. "I know, but one of these days its going to land you in serious trouble."

He shrugged, "Maybe you're right. But at least they've got a chance now."

"They do, if they can take advantage of it." Hisana's eyes dropped and she flipped open her book. "Only one's had an offer so far. The others are talking about paying poorer families to vouch for them just to keep themselves out of the hands of the 12th."

Renji frowned. "That's a dodgy path to start down." In his experience, anyone you had to keep paying to watch your back wasn't worth having there to start with.

"What choice do they have?"

"I guess. Anyway, I better go catch up with Kurosaki before Matsumoto gets her claws into him."

Hisana glanced up with a smile. "He's got a big heart, that kid."

"That he has," Renji agreed, stretching the kinks out of his back. "Trouble is, he's got a mouth to match and no brains to back it up." Ignoring her comment about two peas in a pod, he gave her a little backwards wave and left her to work.

Ichigo was indeed at the infirmary, in the secure section. Renji nodded to the three guards in the corridor and cracked open the door of the room Matsumoto was in, not to catch them, per se, but just to see what they might be doing.

The pair were talking, blond and ginger heads bowed close together, and Matsumoto's expression was fascinating. She looked torn between frustration and complete confusion, though going by the way she kept adjusting the front of her plain white yukata, 'desperate' might be more accurate. If she opened it any further she really would fall out, and yet still Ichigo seemed oblivious to her charms. Her hand was on Ichigo's leg and, as Renji watched, it crept higher.

It made Renji's skin crawl. After what had just happened to her, that she should be desperate enough to be trying this... There was no way he could stand there and watch it. He pushed the door wide and when she spotted him, Matsumoto pouted, tugging her top closed, and settled back on the pillows.

So it was a private seduction she was after. Renji made a mental note not to leave Ichigo alone with her for too long again. Despite everything, the woman really did have scary skills when it came to getting what she wanted and, worst kept secret in Seireitei that it was, she must have realised by now that Kurosaki-sanseki was also Shiba Ichigo, and thus a bit of a catch for a single woman with ambitions.

"Having fun?" Renji asked, deliberately letting his gaze drag up Matsumoto's body and meeting her eyes with a smirk. She flushed slightly, and Renji couldn't help feel disgusted at himself for treating her that way, even if it had worked.

Ichigo's reaction was more surprising. "Where's Byakuya? Tell me that bastard came back with you," he demanded and the hard edge to his voice filled Renji with a sudden and very real sense of disquiet. It was one thing being pissed with Byakuya in the privacy of their own rooms, but something else completely speaking about taichō like that in front of other people. That was disrespectful, and potentially dangerous if the wrong person heard the wrong things and drew the wrong conclusions.

Renji placed a hand firmly on Ichigo's shoulder and squeezed hard enough for the kid to take it for the warning it was.

Instead of calming down, Ichigo shook him off and glared. "I get it, all right. Not 6th, so they have to be the enemy. Well, this time he's wrong. Rangiku's one of the good guys."

Rangiku? They were on first name terms already?

"Right, that does it." Renji grabbed a hold of Ichigo once more, this time yanking the kid to his feet, and shot a smile that was more teeth than anything else at Matsumoto. "Excuse us," he said, "my subordinate and I need to have a few words in private," and stalked from the room towing a protesting Ichigo behind him.

The noise and stupid complaints kept going until they made it as far as one of the training rooms, where Renji shoved open the door, tossed Ichigo inside and followed, slamming the door closed behind them.

Ichigo glared up at him from the floor where he'd landed and said, "What the fucking hell is wrong with you?"

"I could ask you the same damn thing," Renji snarled back. "Rangiku? Seriously? Do have a first idea what that woman's capable of?"

"Feeling a bit jealous, are we?" A sly expression slipped over Ichigo's face, and it was such a strange one for the kid that it took the wind right out of Renji's sails.

Was it jealousy?

He had to admit to feeling a pang of it when he saw Matsumoto's hand on Ichigo's leg, but that wasn't the only thing that was bothering him. He was genuinely worried. Ichigo was too naive at times when it came to believing the best of people, and Matsumoto Rangiku was just the type to smell that a mile off and take advantage.

Even so, having to think about it at all had stopped him from shouting. He wandered past Ichigo over to the rack of bokken, grabbed two, tossed one to Ichigo, and took his stance.

"It's not just jealousy," he said, as Ichigo scrambled to his feet and raised his weapon. "Though you're right about that being a part of it." This time his grin was toothy for another reason. "Not that I blame you. Faced with a rack like that, I'd have been looking too." He swung, a kiai automatically on his lips, and the sound of wood striking wood resonated around the room.

Ichigo's new gloves, Renji noticed immediately, were giving him difficulties with his grip. Still, Renji didn't back off. Since the best way of getting past a problem was to practice till you got used to it, Renji kept up his attacks, chasing Ichigo back across the mats, their bokken hitting again and again in a sharp strong rhythm. For long minutes there was nothing but the sting of jarred fingers, the sound of breath, footstep and heartbeat, punctuated by the focus and flurry of blow after numbing blow. It was good, cleansing after the nitpicking stupidity of the court-martial, and Renji relished every moment of it, even as his muscles began to burn and sweat stung in his eyes.

With a final kiai and swing, he caught Ichigo an upward cut across the ribs, landing it hard enough to drive the kid to his knees, and brought the tip of the bokken to rest against his neck. "Concede?" he panted, surprised at just how out of breath he was. Either he was losing condition or Ichigo was getting better.

"Yeah, concede," Ichigo gasped in reply, "bastard. That fucking hurt!"

"Big baby," Renji quipped, holding out a hand for Ichigo to grip and hauling him to his feet. The gloves were slick and hot against his palm, and Renji had a moment of visceral imagination as to how they'd feel on other parts of his anatomy, before dragging his mind back to the here and now enough to ask, "Feeling better?"

"Some, I guess," Ichigo muttered, propping his bokken against his thigh and rubbing his hands on his hakama. "Argh, this is disgusting."

The gloves probably were, from the inside. "So, take 'em off," Renji suggested, wandering over to the facilities in the corner, intent on rinsing off and getting a drink.

"Would if I could," Ichigo said, joining him. He glared at the trough like it had personally offended him and let loose a resounding curse. "Fuck! This sucks! I'm not even gonna be able to wash!"

Ignoring him in favour of his own comfort, Renji ducked under the pipe, letting cool water soak the back of his neck and the collar of his shihakushō and huffed happily. What he really needed to do was change. He'd had the same clothes on for two days now and after that little work out, ripe was soon gonna be the only applicable description for him. "Why? They seal them on, or something?" he asked once he surfaced enough to speak.

He meant it as a joke and you could have knocked him down with a feather when Ichigo, who was leaning on the wall staring at his gloved hands, frowned and replied, "Yeah, least I think that's what they said. It was confusing."

Renji froze, water dripping down his back, staring at Ichigo, expecting his expression to crack, the laughter to start, the joke to be played. It didn't happen. Instead Ichigo just looked more miserable. "You're serious," Renji said finally. "They sealed gloves onto your hands permanently?" Could they even do that? It sounded a bit far fetched to Renji.

"No," Ichigo snapped. "They do come off. It's just that... I can't do it." He turned away, face creasing into a real scowl. "Byakuya can, and so can the sōtaichō and that guy from Central 46." He paused and his voice dropped to a near whisper. "They said it's for everyone else's protection, so I can't do to them what I did to Ise, but I wouldn't."

That explained what had been going on in the room at the 1st before Renji was allowed in. It sounded a bit harsh, though Renji could see the logic behind it. Ichigo apparently couldn't. When he looked back round, his expression was screwed up with frustration. "I didn't mean to hurt her. It was an accident, but they wouldn't listen. They said I was dangerous and if I didn't agree to the gloves then they would lock me up. What was I going to do? I had to let them do it. And he just stood there and let them. He didn't even try."

He. That would be Byakuya, presumably.

Renji heaved a sigh and felt like slapping himself on the forehead. Or possibly banging Ichigo and Byakuya's heads together, after all what was the point in hurting himself when it was those two who were being idiots.

"What was he gonna say, huh? He can't afford get chucked out of the alliance and, right now, Kyōraku-taichō's mightily pissed at you for what happened with Ise. I'll bet he threatened to take it further if taichō didn't fix it, so doing this," Renji waved at the much hated gloves, "buys time for Kyōraku to cool down. It shows that Byakuya's taking his worries seriously and that no-one thinks he's just some old woman fussing over his lover."

The expression on Ichigo's face was belligerent. "So why didn't he say that? He could have yesterday, or this morning, or-"

"Give him a chance," Renji suggested placatingly, "Talk to him tonight. You know he's a better once he's relaxed a bit, so let him fuck you and then bring it up."

"You're missing the point!" Ichigo retorted, and he seemed to be looking past Renji as he spoke. "He could have told me any time, Renji, but he never tells me anything! It's always just orders, orders, orders-"

"Precisely as a seated officer should expect from his captain."

Renji spun, heart in his throat, at the sound of Byakuya's voice. Taichō stood in the open doorway, and for a second, all of them stood frozen, silent and still, waiting for someone to make the first move. Then Byakuya's gaze flicked from Renji to Ichigo and back again, chill with disapproval.

"This is not a suitable place for this conversation. My office," he stated tonelessly, and stalked away.

Renji's fist was swinging before he registered moving. The impact as he hit the stone wall sent a jarring pain up through his wrist, sharp enough that he might actually have broken it. Not that Renji cared at this precise moment. It faded in comparison to the one in his heart. "Damn it, Ichigo," he hissed, leaning his full weight against the wall, fist pressed to the rock and throbbing, "did you fucking know he was there? How much did he hear?"

A shrug was all he got for his efforts and if his hand hadn't hurt so much, Renji would have followed his first punch up with another – to Ichigo's stupid, thoughtless face.

He didn't have a chance to say anything else. Ichigo was gone, and Renji hoped like hell it was to Byakuya's office and not off on another one of his sulks. He wrapped a cold wet towel around his hand and holding it tight across his chest, jogged towards the main building, heading for Byakuya's office himself.

He was at the far end of the corridor when he felt the rage in Ichigo's reiatsu and upped his pace to a sprint. Koniwa was already there, hovering outside the door, his back to the corridor as he bent close, very obviously trying to eavesdrop. When he heard Renji's footsteps, he jumped guiltily away, his hands up as if to say, 'I wasn't listening, honest'.

Renji snarled at him. "I want everyone else away from here. If you see a single soul anywhere near this office, you have my permission to kick their asses into the middle of next week. And that includes yourself, got it?"

Yelping a frantic, "Yes, sir," Koniwa beat a rapid retreat with not so much as one backward glance. Satisfied that they now had some privacy, Renji put one hand on the door, took a deep breath and opened it – into a reiatsu gale.

The two men who, just yesterday morning had been so into each other, Renji might as well not have existed, now stood on opposite sides of the desk. Ichigo, still wearing the gloves, Renji noticed, had both hands planted on the desktop and was leaning forward on his toes, the hem of his shihakushō fluttering as his reiatsu seethed and rose.

On the surface, Byakuya looked much the calmer of the two, but it was the kind of calm that came before a tsunami, a drawing back of energy until it was unleashed and rained holy hell down on everyone in its path. And Ichigo was looking straight into the teeth of it and not blinking. He was either too stupid to live or too naive to realise. Or possibly both.

"She's got nowhere to go," Ichigo was insisting. "You can't just chuck her out." He must have registered Renji entering the room since he shot a look back over his shoulder. "Renji, tell him. Matsumoto's got to join the 6th."

Now there was a demand Renji wasn't gonna touch with a ten foot pole. "Not my decision to make," he said, then added for good measure, "And it's not yours either, unless you've gone and got a promotion to captain while I wasn't looking."

Ichigo opened his mouth, paused, and then slammed a fist down on the desk, hard. "Fuck it! It's not about rank or who's fucking decision it is, it's about... human decency... being civilised. You don't abandon people who need you."

"And who says she does need you?" Renji felt his head starting to pound with frustration. He loved these guys, he did, but the way they looked at the world was polar opposites and the role of peacemaker always landed on him. It was tempting to just walk away, let them get on with it, but Renji couldn't. If for no other reason than there was a truth here that Ichigo needed to realise.

"You've got this all wrong. What happened with Matsumoto was bad and..." Renji glanced at Byakuya, thought 'fuck it', and ploughed on anyway, "I don't regret helping them for a second, but she's not some fainting flower. She's a Gotei 13 fukutaichō. She's been a shinigami for twice as long as I have. She kicks freaking ass most of the time, and she sure as hell doesn't need some jumped-up kid who still stinks of the living world coddling her."

"But-" Ichigo began, but Renji hadn't finished having his say.

"When Ōtoribashi offered her the position, she didn't have to say yes. She knew damn well what she was getting into and what would happen if he ever fell. And believe me she had a damn good time while she was there, so don't start believing her line that she's some hard done to victim." His breath felt hot in his throat and it seemed to be tightening for some reason. "Try asking her where she was when Madarame came for her captain. She should have been there. _That _was her job, not swanning around drinking herself into a stupor and flirting with all the pretty guys she surrounded herself with."

As he spoke, Renji's mind conjured images of Byakuya – dying from Kurotsuchi's poison, from Urahara's lucky strike, from Ichigo himself and that long lethal splinter of wood.

Heart in his mouth, he pushed on, "They got him on her watch and that-" Renji slammed his good hand down on the desk, "that is unforgivable. She should have died herself before she let her captain fall."

His final words hung on the air. Byakuya was half turned away, his eyes mostly closed, his face expressionless.

Ichigo was shaking his head, still looking confused. "What about the others? They're not fukutaichō level?"

Renji dismissed his arguments with a sweep of his hand. "Taking any of them in would send the wrong message. For one thing it'd fuel the rumour that taichō condoned what we'd done, and before you know it, every pissed off grunt in Seireitei'll think all they have to do is turn up on the 6th's doorstep and Kuchiki-taichō'll take 'em in."

"What's wrong with that?" Ichigo asked. He held a hand out to Byakuya. "If they all came to you, you could make them change the rules. Make them treat their people with some decency."

"And the other captains would just put up with that, right?" Renji shot back. "Having their people stolen out from under their noses. No. A captain who starts pissing all over the rules like that is gonna find himself isolated quick as a flash."

"They couldn't fight him about it. Captains aren't allowed to fight."

Finally Byakuya joined the fray, lifting his head and saying quietly and calmly, "Not a fight, a bidding war."

Ichigo looked from one to the other. "But you fought for me? I'm no better, no different, from them! They deserve to have someone fighting for them as much I did!"

And crap, Renji really had thought that Ichigo had got his head around this. Apparently not.

"How many of those bouts that taichō fought for you, do you reckon he could manage?" he demanded, and immediately carried on, "Ten, thirty, fifty. And what happens when he fails, because he will. No one can fight forever, Ichigo. Everyone, even a captain, loses sooner or later, and if taichō lost, what happens to the 6th then? What happens to all the people who rely on Kuchiki-taichō to keep them safe?

"Ōtoribashi and Matsumoto and the rest of the seated officers at the 10th were supposed to be keeping those guys safe. They failed. Don't take their failure and make it ours as well." It was a damned harsh truth but a necessary one. For some reason Ichigo couldn't seem to grasp that Soul Society wasn't like the Living World. There weren't things like second chances here. Failure meant death, and if you didn't like that, you kept your head down and hoped like hell that no one noticed you.

For once Ichigo seemed to be lost for a reply. He floundered for a long moment, his gaze still shifting from Renji to Byakuya and then back again as though expecting one of them to cave and agree with him. When neither of them did, he settled on Byakuya and demanded in voice much less belligerent than before, "And Yachiru? You said she'd gone to the 3rd, but you hate Ichimaru."

Byakuya blinked and dipped his chin, and Renji realised that he was actually going to attempt to explain. Maybe some of what Ichigo had said had got through after all.

"I have no fondness for him, that is true, however the 3rd had always taken the gifted children. Your grandfather started the tradition and your father-"

Ichigo's sudden audible intake of breath saw Byakuya jerk his head up to stare at him. The expression on Ichigo's face was unmistakable. Horror mixed with guilt mixed with sorrow, all due to one mention of his father. And then he was gone; the door left wide behind him, the corridor empty.


	7. Pride and Perspicacity

His heart hurt. It was a simple, familiar pain, and yet still had the power to surprise him. Perhaps it was the mention of Gin and Isshin so close together but Byakuya found himself cast back to that night yet again. To the eerie silence of the deserted camp, to the smell as he followed the trail of gutted bodies discarded amongst the trees. To the sight of his father's severed head and torso, ever-gentle eyes shocked wide and open. And finally his uncle's scorched form on the blood-soaked ground as Isshin loomed over him, zanpakutō held high.

The tearing scream of a battle cry that rose in his own throat, the rush and smash as he dashed himself against the forbidding wall that was the Shiba's power and was flicked away as no more than an irritation. The fruitless stunned grope for Senbonzakura and the moment his fingers had closed around another blade entirely.

For the smallest moment, despair gripped him, then slender arms seemed to slip around his waist and an armoured chest pressed briefly against his back, supportive and strong.

"Fear not, master. I am here by your side, as always."

Byakuya relaxed, inhaling the blood and steel scents of his zanpakutō, before opening his eyes to the familiar strangeness of his inner world. Beside him, Senbonzakura took a step forward and silently they stared out over the deserted battlefield that stretched in all directions. Littered with the upright shapes of discarded blades and the unmoving bodies of the fallen, the carnage appeared infinite in the bruise-coloured dusk, and truly, despite searching, Byakuya never had found its limits. Perhaps there were none, except those which lay within his own reserves.

Currently, with Senbonzakura in its sealed state, the air here was grave-silent and still, but from experience Byakuya knew that peace was transitory. Release turned this haven into chaos as each sword, each body, rose to fight; a living, moving, numberless army which Byakuya had learnt to wield as a single weapon.

"They are yours, sworn to you. They should be pleased to serve at your command."

It took a moment for Byakuya to parse the meaning behind Senbonzakura's irritable words. When he did, he couldn't help the small smile that curled his lips. Renji and Ichigo, of course. And Senbonzakura would see things this way. There were no greys in his zanpakutō's understanding of the world. Byakuya was lord and master and Senbonzakura would fight to ensure that it remained so, however many challengers there might be. The complexities of a relationship were beyond it. There were times when Byakuya wondered if they might be beyond him. Things between Renji and himself had been so much simpler, before.

As oathsworn and lieutenant, Renji was his entirely, and though that hadn't changed, the dynamic between them certainly had with Ichigo's arrival. Instead of both of them looking to him, as Byakuya had hoped, they now also looked to each other, and since neither had the sense of the newborn when it came to self-preservation, disaster inevitably followed. Like this ridiculousness at the 10th. The court martial had been essential, a public declaration of his disapproval as a captain of the Gotei 13, but how that translated into their private relationship was another matter, and one that lay entirely within Byakuya's hands.

"They should be disciplined. Broken and reformed into something worthy of you."

An option, but a potentially wasteful one. Experience had shown Byakuya that Ichigo especially responded badly to the crop and bit. Attempting to force him at this point could drive him away entirely.

And Renji? Perhaps it was time to re-establish some boundaries between them. And yet he had enjoyed the informality of their recent interactions. Their relationship now brought joy where before there had been only duty, and he had no real desire to return to the old days.

If Renji would just stop challenging him, Byakuya thought. If he were just the slightest bit obedient... and yet wasn't that rebellion part of what he loved about the man. That indomitable spirit, that barely tamed nature.

The thought diffused much of his surface anger. In retrospect, taking in a wolf and then punishing it for failing to fawn like a lap-dog was foolish in the extreme.

In short, there were no simple answers.

Beside him, Senbonzakura sighed, hearing his unspoken words, and then said, "He is here."

Byakuya shuddered and returned to himself just in time to see Renji stomping back into the office, grumbling under his breath. He must have followed Ichigo, Byakuya realised, and he hadn't even noticed that he was gone.

"Have you located him?" Byakuya asked, absently beginning to rearrange the documents on his desk.

Renji grimaced. "Koniwa's on it. He headed for the rear training grounds though and his escort went with him, so he's not alone."

That was good. Byakuya understood the need to withdraw from a painful situation but that couldn't be used as an excuse to indulge in risky behaviours. Even with good reason.

Ichigo's haunted expression reappeared in his mind's eye. Byakuya's hands paused as he turned over the possibilities. Really, there could be only one who might have trespassed in such way. "Who told him?" he asked finally, "Did Shunsui-?"

"It was Yadomaru," Renji's interjection was definite, unequivocal, much to Byakuya's relief. "Kyōraku-taichō didn't like that you hadn't told him, but he wouldn't have broken faith with your wishes, sir."

"Perhaps not, but that woman." Always opinionated, never deferential. Even towards her own captain. And now this. "How could she... " he began, the snarl in his own voice surprising him enough to ensure the rest went unsaid. How could she put him such a position. Undermine him in such a way.

An arm closed around him, gathering him tight into a warm, sweaty embrace. For a second Byakuya stiffened, his need to maintain control temporarily overriding newer, less formal, reactions to Renji's approaches. And then he succumbed, melting against Renji's shoulder and feeling lips press to his temple and hot breath gust over his cheek.

It was exactly what he needed and it eased something deep inside, allowing some of the words to escape. "I would have told him," he murmured, "I would. At the right time. When he was ready to listen." He couldn't quite bring himself to say, 'w_hen I was ready to talk',_ but felt that Renji grasped the meaning in the silence.

"Yeah, well," Renji's amused voice rumbled in his ear, "The both of you need lessons in how to hold a conversation, so I guess it was inevitable."

Perhaps he was right. Perhaps that was where he'd been going wrong. Byakuya hummed in agreement and reached out, wanting to bring them closer together, envisioning a few moments alone here behind a closed door.

When his fingers brushed against Renji's hand, Renji hissed and pulled away.

Byakuya caught his sleeve, bringing the hand round to look at it more closely. The knuckles were scraped and swollen and beginning to bruise, and when he rotated the wrist, Renji winced and tried to go with it.

Byakuya gave him a quelling glance, but continued his examination more gently even so. Renji hurting himself was not exactly new, he had a tendency to push himself with little thought to ongoing damage when the situation called for it, but as far as Byakuya had been able to see earlier, he had been unharmed when he was sparring with Ichigo. "What did you do?" he asked finally, releasing the damaged limb. It was bruised, not broken, though his use of it would be restricted for several days if he didn't see a healer.

"Punched the wall," Renji confessed, extracting himself from their embrace and ducking his head in obvious chagrin.

Byakuya caught his chin and lifted it, meeting his eyes. "Why would you do such a thing? And with your sword arm."

"It was... " He huffed and his gaze slid to the side despite Byakuya's hold on his chin. "I was mad about what I'd said."

"In the training room." It wasn't a question, it didn't need to be. Not when there was another to be asked. One that would, perhaps, go some way towards addressing this potential schism between them. "Was it the words, or the fact that I overheard them that caused such a violent reaction?"

Renji's focus shot back to Byakuya and for a second he looked absolutely stricken. He was so terribly bad at hiding his emotions, Byakuya thought, a strange fault considering the sheer weight of years he had been instructed in their concealment. Then he grinned, one of those wide self-effacing smiles that fooled Byakuya not one single iota. "Hah, can't put anything past you, can I, taichō. You got me. Seeing you there by the door, knowing what you must've just heard, it really threw me for a loop."

"And yet nothing you said was particularly offensive. The explanation you offered for the gloves was astute, your suggestion for furthering our efforts at communication... " he frowned, thinking through the best language to use, "was unorthodox but not inaccurate," he settled on eventually.

At the words, Renji shifted beneath his hands. Byakuya continued despite his obvious discomfort, determined to share this much at least. "I am aware, Renji, that I can be difficult to talk to, and that like any man I am less... testy when sated and relaxed. This is not some great secret," he paused before saying, "though perhaps one not to be spread about the Seireitei at large. After all, I do have a reputation to maintain."

It was a weak attempt at humour, but it worked. This time Renji's huff was one of amusement and he attempted to snuggle close again.

Byakuya placed a restraining palm to his chest. "No, you smell like a well-exercised horse," he said, smiling when Renji sniffed surreptitiously at himself and grimaced. "You need to bathe but first you should have that hand examined." Ah, but no. He was forgetting that there was another to be taken into account. Decisions that were not his alone to make. He peered into Renji's face and said, "Unless you think we should go and find Ichigo?"

Renji blinked at him, obviously thrown by the change in subject. "Do I what now?"

"Find Ichigo. Or perhaps you would rather go alone." Yes, that might be better still. Renji was so much better at handling Ichigo in one of his moods. Or perhaps better again. "You could return Zangetsu," Byakuya suggested, indicating the stand where the two zanpakutō rested.

"Fu- er, crap no!" Renji replied, even as he strode across the room and retrieved Zabimaru. "He's just had a heap of truth slung at him. Give him a chance to work through it and some space to knock stuff around a bit. If he's not back at the manor come bedtime, I'll go drag him there myself. Promise."

If Renji thought that was the best tactic, Byakuya was willing to go along with it. He often knew instinctively how to deal with behaviour in Ichigo that left Byakuya simply bemused. "Then I suppose the afternoon is our own," he said, immediately forestalling any inappropriate suggestions by adding, "Considering this morning's events, I'm sure there's more than enough paperwork to keep us both busy."

* * *

It was a much subdued Ichigo they found waiting for them when they got home late that evening. He looked frozen sitting there on the steps in only his shihakushō, though why he hadn't gone inside escaped Byakuya entirely. It wasn't as though Ichigo normally needed permission. Was he really that disturbed by what had happened? His closed-off expression certainly suggested it.

At a loss as to what he could say that wouldn't make the situation worse, Byakuya left Renji to patch things over and went to start his evening's ablutions. Koji met him at the baths and, when Byakuya didn't ask for privacy, followed him inside and began undressing him.

Byakuya relaxed into the familiar formality, allowing his mind to wander, out onto the front steps with Renji and Ichigo. The work that afternoon had been demanding enough to stop him brooding, which was a good thing. Excessive brooding was rarely helpful in Byakuya's experience. Much better to consider a question logically and rationally, reach a sensible informed decision and then carry it through. Brooding led to sentimentality, which led to unfortunate displays of excess emotion.

Even so, he had found himself drawn back again and again to Ichigo and his reactions to the discovery of his father's crimes. The fear of him which Byakuya had been worried he might find had been almost entirely absent. That was very much a relief, but then Ichigo had grown to know him better over the past few months and so perhaps it was understandable that he was no longer afraid of some arbitrary revenge for a wrong that was never his anyway.

The guilt was stranger. Though then again maybe not. Ichigo seemed to feel that emotion more strongly than most. It was a good trait in a noble, one that promoted moral responsibility and fiscal prudence, though taken to excess it could be as bad as brooding, leading to unfortunate acts... like rescuing damsels in distress, when doing so put one in direct violation of the law.

And Ichigo hadn't been the only one to indulge in that piece of ridiculousness. Renji had been as much to blame, if not more so since he was the superior officer, and from what he had said earlier, he regretted it not at all. Byakuya wasn't sure what to feel about that. He could only commend Renji's courage, not only for the act but for the unflinching way he faced his punishment, but the fact that he had been so willing to break the law bothered Byakuya deeply. He had thought that rebellious streak long gone. Now it seemed it was simply deeply buried, waiting to escape at the most inappropriate times. Or when Ichigo was involved.

In many ways the two of them were, as Byakuya had predicted such a short time ago, a terrible influence on each other. Neither one of them stopped to think things through, neither looked at the bigger picture, neither backed down from what they thought was right. All, in their own way and in the right context, commendable attributes, but in a Gotei 13 captain, they were a recipe for disaster.

And yet the power of their righteousness was formidable. With the strength they commanded between them even now, there were few who could stand against them, and if Ichigo achieved bankai as fast as Byakuya suspected he might, in a decade they could be the force for change that Byakuya had been hoping for all his life.

If they could all survive that long.

Byakuya was already in the tub, enjoying the fragrant heat of the water when Renji arrived, trailed by a still miserable looking Ichigo. Seeing the expression on Ichigo's face and suspecting it may yet lead to another outburst, Byakuya gestured to Koji to leave them. There was no point in allowing the boy to embarrass himself in front of the staff any more than he had already.

Neither Renji nor Ichigo seemed to notice him go, both of them too busy stripping off clothing that, certainly in Renji's case should probably be burned. Was that really blood on the inside of his kosode, Byakuya wondered? How on earth had he managed to get it there?

The hows and why became irrelevant as Byakuya watched the show, his body stirring in the heat of the water as he watched skin and ink slowly being revealed. It didn't seem to matter how often he witnessed it, Renji undressing was always something of a revelation and never failed to make him hunger for just a taste, a touch, a chance.

Juxtaposed against Renji's powerful form, Ichigo always tended to look weak and waif-like. He wasn't, Byakuya could testify to that. His body was simply younger and less substantial as yet, though he was definitely more muscled now than he had been when he arrived. Even so, stripped down to just his gloves and shivering, his gaze lingering anywhere but on Byakuya, he made a poor showing. Beside him, Renji dipped and soaped and scrubbed in silence and it felt like the entire world was waiting for Ichigo to ask for what he wanted.

Contrary soul that he was, Ichigo refused, of course, and Byakuya was almost tempted to give it to him anyway. Yet he refrained. He did not appreciate being yelled at and since Ichigo was yet to apologise, or even speak to him since the incident in the office, he felt a certain level of entitlement in this situation.

Finally, after Renji had finished washing and was waiting with a towel for Byakuya to leave the tub, Ichigo thrust his hands towards Byakuya and said, "Please? Release them?"

There was still no eye contact. No apology. No real tempering of his stance. Byakuya sighed, rose to his feet, allowed Renji to wrap him in the towel and stepped towards Ichigo. He should do this, not because it was deserved, but because perhaps it would give them a chance to talk. As Renji had said earlier, neither he nor Ichigo communicated well, and yet a conversation was exactly what was needed right now.

Hearing Renji's contented grunt as he lowered himself into the water, Byakuya reached out to Ichigo and, much like he had with Renji earlier, caught his chin and turned his face so that their eyes met. What he saw did not fill him with confidence. Where once there had been open warmth, now there was shutters and walls and closed-off wariness.

Even so the boy had asked, and had done so politely. Byakuya took Ichigo's right arm in his hand, placed a finger midway down the soft inner part, where the silver-white cloth crossed for the final time, and used his reiatsu to break the seal. It was a simple kidō, and one that he would teach Ichigo when he was ready to learn. The intention was never to keep him under others' control long term, simply to prevent a recurrence of the incident with Nanao.

The windflower silk fell away into trailing ribbons and the glove sagged on Ichigo's hand. He shook it free, grimacing, and it dropped to the floor with a quiet thump.

"I realise you find them uncomfortable," Byakuya said as he reached for the other glove to repeat the process. "Had there been another method, I would have utilised it."

Ichigo was shaking his head. "It's not that," he said. "I get that this was the only way. Renji explained it, it makes sense, even if the gloves do suck. What got to me was that you didn't take the time to tell me first."

He glanced up, and Byakuya saw a hint of Ichigo's normal belligerence peeking out from behind the barriers. "You let me go in there blind, without so much as a heads-up, and I guess if it was meant as part of the punishment, then I kind of get that, but I don't think that should have been. Rescuing Matsumoto and Yachiru was against the law, sure, but what happened with Ise was a complete accident, and it's not fair to punish someone for an accident!"

The second glove unravelled itself and was shaken to the ground as Ichigo spoke. When it was gone and he'd finished, he tried to pull away, presumably to start washing. Byakuya was having none of it. If that was truly what Ichigo thought then he had misread the situation.

He caught Ichigo's wrist, holding it tight and said, "It was never meant as a punishment. Tell me, Ichigo, had I come and explained all of this to you before the meeting, what would your reaction have been?"

Ichigo frowned at him, uncomprehendingly. Byakuya tried a different tack, one that would hopefully make Ichigo really examine his behaviour. "If I had told you that you must wear gloves made of windflower silk all day and every day for the rest of your life, would you have meekly obeyed me or would you have argued and fought much like you argued and fought this afternoon over Matsumoto Rangiku?"

That seemed to get through. Pink flushed Ichigo's cheeks and his gaze dropped. He turned away to the pipes and began washing, hands first Byakuya noted. "Yeah, okay, you're right. I would probably have told you where to shove them."

"Hence my decision to allow you to enter that room unprepared," Byakuya said. His yukuta hung beside the others. He lifted it down, slipped it on, snugging the neckline high to keep out the chill, and went on, "Faced by two strangers, both worthy of respect, both of a single mind and course, it was almost impossible for you to defy them." And if it had scared him enough to make him think and think hard, then Byakuya was not going to complain. "Maintaining this alliance with Kyōraku is essential, Ichigo, and I cannot afford to lose it, even for you."

Ichigo was nodding, "Like I said, I get that, honestly. I'm not stupid, I know we've got to have people on our side-"

"Then you also concede that it is impossible for me to do other than insist Matsumoto and her companions leave the division when their three days of healing are over?" Asking this was a risk, yet there was likely not going to be a better chance.

Ichigo froze, dipper in his hand and suds in his hair. A moment later, he started scrubbing again, viscously and rapidly, as though trying to get clean as quickly as physically possible. Byakuya glanced over at Renji, who was sitting forward in the tub, frowning at Ichigo. Their eyes met and Byakuya raised a questioning brow. He didn't want to precipitate a fight, they were uncomfortable and awkward, but on the other hand he would not be walked over in his own house. And certainly not by Ichigo.

Renji shrugged at him, and mouthed, 'Try again?'

Dutifully, Byakuya did so. "Do you have an answer, Ichigo?"

Again, Ichigo stopped moving. For a moment all he did was breathe, his ribs heaving as he stood with his back to them, shoulders dropped. Then he hurled the brush aside and ground out, "No, I don't. Because I've got you on one side with the alliance and the law and all that shit, which is right and real and makes sense. But there's Matsumoto and those other guys on the other, and if you chuck them out like you're going to then Kurotsuchi's gonna grab them off the street and cut them up! So no, I don't have a fucking answer, okay, because there isn't one that doesn't end up with someone somewhere getting fucked over or fucked up!"

If there was one thing Ichigo hated, it was a situation where he couldn't do what he thought was right because someone was telling him it was the wrong thing to do. Byakuya understood that possibly better that Ichigo could ever know. And right now Ichigo was backed into a corner, and no doubt that was what was making him surly and difficult.

Perhaps if Ichigo was at least able to admit that the refugees from the 10th had to leave, maybe a rational compromise could be found. One that neither broke the law nor perpetuated the injustice.

"If I give you permission to help them find alternative placements," Byakuya ventured, "would that assuage some of your anger? However it would be on the condition that they leave once the grace period is up, even if you are unsuccessful."

Ichigo immediately swung round to stare at him, hope burgeoning in his eyes. "You'd do that?" Apparently the latter part of the sentence had bypassed him.

Biting back a small spike of irritation that Ichigo obviously thought so little of him, Byakuya made his way to the door. "Of course," he said, "Despite what you might think, Ichigo, I do not wish any of them to fall victim to Kurotsuchi. It is simply impossible for them to stay permanently without further besmirching the division's reputation. A reputation that will struggle enough to recover from having criminals for third seat and fukutaichō, without making the situation even worse."

Leaving the two offenders to contemplate that together, he headed for the bedroom and quilts and warmth. Perhaps things were more damaged than he feared. Then again, only time would truly tell.


	8. Cruel (Back to Innocence Mix)

**[Warning for dubious consent and a fairly heavy master/slave type scenario.]**

Ichigo's breath caught as Byakuya finally pushed hot and hard inside him, the burn making his body sing, and sweat prickle all over his skin. Beneath him, the silk sheets were slick and warm, and he opened his legs wider, humping against them, trying to force himself to concentrate. But even with Byakuya fucking him and his body responding the way it was, his mind still kept losing focus, running through his scarce list of contacts for anyone who might be able to help Rangiku and her friends.

Yuzu would, he was sure, if he could get permission to see her within the three day time window. Maybe Karin too, if she was home by then. If she was talking to him. She and her squad were on a living world assignment and she'd only been dragged back for the clan meeting before having to leave again straight afterwards. Ichigo realised with a pang of regret that he hadn't even spoken to her properly. Damn, he really should get in touch.

"Ichigo?"

Think. There had to be a way. Could he send a message to her? That might work. And since Byakuya was all tied up in knots about the division's reputation, sending the message under the clan name probably made the most sense. It'd keep the division out of it completely, and mean that he could rope Ganju in as well. The guy'd probably appreciate getting one over on Byakuya after what he did to him in the arena and, fuck, maybe Ichigo should apologise for that?

"Ichigo!"

He'd never really had a chance to say sorry. Since Ichigo lived with Byakuya on the Kuchiki estate and Ganju still lived with his sister, Ichigo hadn't seen him to speak to. At least, not unsupervised and never when it wasn't clan business. He wasn't even sure how to go about contacting him.

Fingertips rubbed over his lips. Eyes closed and still deep in thought, Ichigo dutifully opened his mouth to suck them in, and yelped when they flicked the end of his nose instead.

"Ow! What the hell?" he protested, rubbing the offended part and blinking up at Renji, who was beside him on the bed, propped on one elbow and smirking down at him.

That was when Ichigo registered the rather draughty feeling around his back end.

Heart already sinking, he turned to look the other way, only to find Byakuya lying in a similar position to Renji, though his expression was less smirk and more, 'die, insignificant worm, die!'.

Ichigo gulped. " erm..." he said, "sorry?"

Grey eyes narrowed slightly and Ichigo got the impression that he'd mortally insulted Byakuya somehow. Which.. okay, yeah, he'd not noticed when the guy'd stopped fucking him, but he'd been distracted, damn it, and it was difficult to strategize and stay on message at the same time!

"You do not appear sorry," Byakuya said. He reached out and gripped Ichigo's hair, tipping his head in Renji's direction. "Does this look apologetic to you?"

Renji's smirk widened as Ichigo glared at him. "Not even a little bit," he said and Ichigo could have kicked him.

"Traitor," he growled, "What the hell happened to protecting each other's backs, huh?"

"Doesn't apply in bed," Renji replied lightly and slumped back on the pillows. "What d'ya want to do with him, taich?"

"Since simply fucking him doesn't seem to hold his attention," Byakuya began, releasing Ichigo's hair and starting to get up. "We shall have to find something that will."

"I said I was sorry!" Ichigo protested, getting to his knees.

Apparently an apology wasn't going to cut it. With a quelling look, and pausing only to slip a dark purple yukata around his shoulders, Byakuya rose from the bed, and continued right over the top of Ichigo, "Hold him, Renji, while I get supplies."

The familiar 'arm like an iron bar' wrapped round Ichigo from behind, yanking him off-balance to thump back against Renji's solid body, and Renji's hand clamped down around Ichigo's wrists. As always, Ichigo tried to get away, only to find himself trapped even further by Renji's thighs pressing tightly against either side of his own. Stupid position. Whoever said it was easy to get up from kneeling had never had Renji glomp onto them. Now he was stuck.

His heart started thumping double time as Byakuya began opening drawers in one of the cabinets and taking out things Ichigo didn't recognise.

Was this supposed to be scary? Ichigo wasn't sure. Part of him was edging towards terrified. Given the past couple of days, it wouldn't be unthinkable for Byakuya to physically punish him. Nor would it be the first time. Ichigo still vividly remembered that first night in this room, when Byakuya had held him down and spanked him till he'd cried.

But he was kept from really trying to get away by the healthy dose of curiosity and excitement that came along with the fear. From the clues Renji had let drop, Ichigo knew that he and Byakuya used to play sex games, but they'd never done anything like that since Ichigo had started sharing their bed. Apart from the odd challenge, all of which had been directed at Byakuya, so far it had been just plain fucking and sucking. This, Ichigo suspected, was going to be a bit different.

"Baku." The power-word murmured hot in Ichigo's ear, and Ichigo saw and felt reishi cuffs solidify out of nothing around his wrists.

He stared down at them, his mind slowly turning over what they meant. He could break them. Hells, without his gloves on he could just absorb them. Renji knew that, and so did Byakuya, which meant this was just a game. Even so, the idea of them, the feel of them, unyielding against his muscles as he flexed his forearms, made him sweat. His dick, which had flagged with everything that had been going on, started taking an interest again.

He knew that having Renji or Byakuya hold him down, turned him on; did he like being tied up as well? He didn't remember getting off on it the night Byakuya had hog-tied him and left him at the end of the bed. Though that was probably different.

"Good?" Renji asked.

Ichigo glanced at him, and he knew he probably looked really dumb, but he couldn't help the blush or the way his breathing was getting deeper. He nodded, and then flinched when a hand ran up his thigh. It was Byakuya, and the quizzical look he gave Ichigo for the reaction simply made Ichigo blush harder.

"Open your legs," Byakuya instructed, and he had something in his hand. It looked like a leather strap of some kind and Ichigo wanted to ask him what it was, but that would just sound like he knew nothing and it was bad enough that that was true without making a huge song and dance about it. So Ichigo did as he was told, letting Byakuya push his knees apart, and leaning harder onto Renji as the position made him even more dependent on his support.

It also made his thighs burn and he wriggled his toes to try and keep the circulation going properly. He wasn't like these guys, used to sitting seiza for hours. His legs always went numb after a few minutes.

"You need up?" Renji asked and it occurred to Ichigo that if this was supposed to be a game, and maybe fun, then maybe he should say something.

"I'll be okay," he said. "My legs are just tingling a bit and um... "

Though now it came to the actual asking, he felt stupid and childish and... fuck it. "What are you gonna do to me?" he asked, the words coming out kind of garbled and rushed. And he just wanted to die right there of embarrassment, which was beyond dumb because there couldn't be anything these guys hadn't done before, so why was Ichigo getting embarrassed about it now? See. Totally dumb!

"I'm going to use this on you," Byakuya replied, holding up the blue leather strap. Now that Ichigo could see it better, he realised it was some kind of cock ring, though he'd never seen one that wide and with buckles. Not that he'd looked at things like that. Ever.

"Um..." he said again, only for Byakuya to give him one of those looks, the ones that said, 'are you really going to argue with me?', and grab him by the balls. Ichigo tried to lurch backwards and found Renji more than up to the task of holding him in place.

"He's not gonna hurt ya," Renji explained. "The strap just goes round the top of your sac and stops you from coming too quickly." As Renji spoke, Byakuya started doing just that.

The leather was cool against blood-heated skin and Ichigo found his breath catching and then heaving as Byakuya's fingers manipulated him, expertly adjusting and easing and buckling until the strap was in place. His dick didn't know whether to go soft from fear or get hard from anticipation and he found himself half-heartedly trying to thrust and panting through his nose as Renji rubbed a reassuring hand over his abs.

Once the strap was on, it felt so strange. Like someone had a grip on his balls and was pulling them down, not so hard that it hurt, but enough that he wasn't going to forget the thing was there in a hurry.

"Yer tying him up too?" Renji asked while Ichigo was still staring at the oddness that was his own body wrapped in leather.

Ichigo looked up to find Byakuya now uncoiling a length of white rope. He was going to use that as well? It felt like a step too far, though the only complaint Ichigo could muster was a quiet whine.

"Put him on the bed," Byakuya said, gesturing to the space beside them.

Ichigo felt Renji tense up. His hand stopped moving on Ichigo's belly, and then he asked, "You gonna fuck him or blow him?"

"Does it really matter?" Byakuya replied, grey-eyed gaze shifting onto Renji, and Ichigo sensed a clash of wills going on over his head.

"Just that if yer planning on torturing him like you used to me, I reckon I could fuck him at the same time," Renji offered plainly.

Byakuya seemed to be seriously thinking about that, when all Ichigo wanted to say was, 'Torture? Fuck the hell off!' He didn't dare voice it aloud though. Byakuya didn't react well to being challenged like that, and they didn't mean it literally.

Probably.

"That would be acceptable," Byakuya said finally. "On the pillows, then."

Before Ichigo could do more than yelp and flail, Renji had hauled them both back onto the pile of pillows and had Ichigo sitting in his lap, his dick nudging at Ichigo's ass like it knew where it wanted to be. He was going to end up in the same position they'd had Byakuya in that time, Ichigo realised, only this time he was going to be the one in the middle. The idea was simultaneously as scary as hell and a real turn on.

With a quiet grunt, Renji eased him up with arms and thighs, his big muscles trembling as Ichigo was held steady for Byakuya to do the honours. Denied the use of his own hands to steady himself, Ichigo pressed his head into Renji's shoulder and tried not to move too much as Byakuya prepped him again. A few moments later he felt the hot blunt tip of Renji's dick replace Byakuya's slicked fingers and had just enough time for a single breath as he was breached, before Byakuya was pulling his head round for a kiss.

And not just a kiss. Byakuya wrapped his hand around Ichigo's dick, and began working him with long drawn-out strokes that were too gentle and were never gonna do anything but tease. They just drove Ichigo crazy instead, making him try to thrust even though he couldn't in this position, which in turn just let Renji slide deeper until Ichigo thought he could almost feel him in the back of his throat he was so full.

The kiss went on and on. Ichigo pushed his cuffed hands against Byakuya's chest, whining as his tongue was teased and caressed at the same maddeningly slow pace as the hand-job. To make it worse, Renji started playing with his nipples, tugging on them and twisting, and lipping at his neck and ear at the same time. Ichigo felt trapped between two furnace hot sources of heat; Renji huge inside and behind him, and Byakuya looming in front. It was all too much. He wanted to come already. Needed to come.

A moment later, Byakuya pulled away completely, hands as well as mouth. Ichigo chased him, aware that he was desperate but not caring enough not to show it. Renji held him back and lifted his knees, pushing Ichigo's legs further apart. Combined with the strap, the stretch made Ichigo's balls pull and ache, and he cried out as much in frustration as anything else.

Byakuya was sitting back on his heels, coolly analytical, watching Ichigo as he squirmed and panted, and then he was reaching for something else.

"The strap's just annoying," Renji murmured in Ichigo's ear, "These are gonna hurt. Mostly in a good way though."

"What?" The quiet warning somehow penetrated his lust haze and Ichigo jerked his head up to find Byakuya armed again, this time with a piece of chain and... "Fuck off!" Ichigo said. "I know what nipple clamps are, and no." He was suddenly so turned off it felt like he'd been showered with ice-cold water.

He might as well not have said a thing. Byakuya kept coming and Ichigo knew that expression. He'd seen it during sword practice before Byakuya started in on one of his unrelenting attacks that you damn well found a defence for or ended up in the infirmary. That had happened to Ichigo once. Every time after that, he'd found some way of just keeping up and by the end of the session he was flying from the adrenaline. Because Byakuya always knew precisely how hard and how far to push him to get the the best out of him.

Which raised the question... would this be the same? Instinct told Ichigo to fight. He didn't like pain, it hurt, and yet sometimes things that rode the edges of hurt didn't cause pain. And okay he was confusing himself, but it was true. When one of the guys started fucking him, half of Ichigo always wanted to crawl away from the sensation, while the other half wanted to lie there and let it happen forever. And it didn't matter how often they fucked, it was the same every time. That moment of, is this pain or is it just really fucking intense.

Did he want to see if this was the same?

If he really wanted to, Ichigo knew he could get away from Renji. And he knew that if he really fought, Renji would release him. That alone made Ichigo feel safer.

And then it was too late anyway. Byakuya was flicking his already sensitised nipple, the clamp was going on, and the pinch and burn of it made Ichigo twist to get away, which - damn it - just gave Byakuya better access to the other side, and then both nipples were hot throbbing points of something, and every time he breathed the sensations changed, peaking and ebbing and he couldn't inhale properly past it. The air kept catching in his throat, and he was panting and, fuck, yeah, that was him moaning and how fucking sad was that?

"Slow, slow," Renji's voice rumbled in his ear. "Breathe slower. Yer gonna hyperventilate." Along with the words came hands, big warm ones that moved soothingly up and down his sides, and then onto his dick, stroking him firmly until his hips began to twitch and thrust. And now the pain was gone and there was only sensation. "See. Told ya it gets better."

It occurred to Ichigo through the haze of ow and want and wonder, that Renji knew exactly how all this felt because Byakuya must have used this gear on him. Had he just lain there and let Byakuya do it? Or had he been restrained with that rope? Was the way he was holding Ichigo now, the way he was supporting and comforting him, what he had wanted someone to do for him back then?

"Sorry," Ichigo found himself saying, and despite really wishing his mouth would stop, it kept on going. "Sorry I wasn't there to watch your back."

He felt Renji's harsh chuckle rather than heard it, though he heard the words that followed. "Think he's finally getting it, taich?," and Byakuya wasn't correcting him, Ichigo realised. Hadn't been since this evening took a left turn. And Byakuya always corrected him these days. So what did it say that Byakuya was letting Renji call him captain?

It was almost impossible to think through the layers of sensation tugging at his mind and body, but Ichigo suspected that this was important. And when he finally got there, he realised why.

This wasn't Byakuya, Renji and Ichigo in bed. Somewhere along the line, the hats had changed without Ichigo noticing, and this now was Kuchiki-taich? with his lieutenant and third seat. This was about power and its application. If the trial earlier had been to show that the 6th division did not condone criminal activity, this was Kuchiki-taich? proving how much he hated insubordination. Renji had recognised that and had fallen into role; Ichigo hadn't even seen it coming.

And then Ichigo couldn't think any more. Byakuya's hot wet mouth closed around the tip of his dick and Ichigo's brain went into white out. He knew he was making noises, pathetic ones that only got louder when Renji began grinding up into him and pressing on all the right bits on the inside. And there might have been begging, maybe even some crying because the things Byakuya could do with his tongue had to be experienced to be believed and they still wouldn't let him come.

Somehow, the chain attached to the clamps had ended up looped around his cuffed wrists and every movement he made, every attempt to reach for Byakuya, for Renji, for something, meant he tugged harder on his nipples. And by now they felt like they had a direct line to his balls. Like a triangle of pain that somehow reached his dick as mind-blowing pleasure. Renji's hand around his throat forcing his head back, his lips crashing down and his tongue probing deep, were all things that happened to someone else, some other Ichigo, because all this Ichigo wanted, all he needed, was to come. It consumed him. He needed it more than he needed to breathe, more than he needed to live.

They played with him, bringing him to the brink again and again. Time ceased to have meaning, the lines between pain and pleasure blurred, separated and blurred again. And when, at last, they tired of their games and let him come, they consumed all of it entirely. As the clamps and strap came off, Renji captured his cry in a devouring kiss, and when his balls finally contracted in spasms of relief that left him wrung out and beyond empty, it was Byakuya that swallowed him down.

He was shivering as they wrapped him in a yukata and tucked him under the covers. Calming fingers stroked through his hair. Renji's, Ichigo thought, though he was too far gone towards sleep to be certain. He definitely heard Renji ask about who was taking watch and Byakuya say something in reply about there being enough security for tonight. And then Ichigo was asleep, his mind a blissful blank slate of nothingness.

He awoke some indeterminate time later to the quiet sounds of sex, which made sense since he might have got off but he was pretty sure the others hadn't. Rather than let them know he was back with them and risk getting dragged into another round that his body sure didn't feel up to, Ichigo silently slit his eyes open instead to see what was happening.

They were in the perfect position to observe. Renji was still on his back, propped on the pillows as he had been before, but now Byakuya was astride him, fucking himself on Renji's dick, his movements slow and deliberate as he rose and fell. Dark hair spilt over Byakuya's face, partially obscuring it, and the purple yukata hung loose from his shoulders, pooling on the bed around his knees and concealing where he and Renji were joined.

Through the yukata's open front, Ichigo could see Byakuya's hand working up and down the length of his own cock with long languid strokes. The tip looked deep red as it appeared and disappeared inside his fist, as though he'd been going at it for ages, but his eyes were completely clear and fixed on Renji.

It was impossible for Renji to look back. The obi from the yukata was wrapped around his head, binding his eyes, and he was panting like he'd just run a marathon. Part of the reason for that had to be those damned clamps, which were now on Renji's nipples. Byakuya was tugging the silver chain hard enough that Ichigo wanted to wince in sympathy.

And it wasn't just them. It was the rope as well, wound round and round Renji's body in intricate loops and knots. He could hardly move, Ichigo realised, watching as Renji's muscles flexed and relaxed, bulging around the ropes. His arms were secured behind him, the tension thrusting his chest forward into the perfect position for the nipple clamps. Rope criss-crossed above and below them, some strung together, others separate. They followed the lines of the tattoos, the only deviations being the ones forming a makeshift gag and the single loop around Renji's neck, twisted and knotted tightly enough that Ichigo could see Renji's tendons straining against the pressure as he pressed his head into the pillows.

One leg was bent at the knee, the rope winding up and down thigh and calf, all linked by a series of knots like a plait down the inside. As Ichigo watched, the leg twitched and Renji let out a quiet pained cry, his forehead tattoos drawing together into a frown, and Ichigo suddenly got the bad feeling that Byakuya was using more than the strap on Renji's balls.

Some still half-asleep part of Ichigo's mind snickered at the idea that Byakuya had Renji tied up in knots yet again, while the more alert bit thanked every god it could think of that Renji had stopped Byakuya using the rope on him. It didn't look like fun at all.

And yet it seemed to be doing something for Renji. He had to be hard if Byakuya was riding him and he looked like he was fighting not to come, so it couldn't be that bad. Maybe it was like the reishi cuffs, only all over.

Ichigo shuddered at the thought. Yeah, okay, maybe he did get it a little, but it still looked a bit extreme for him.

They were good together though. Byakuya was obviously playing Renji like a well-loved video game. He certainly had a handle on the controls. Every move he made seemed designed to get a response and Ichigo found himself riveted by the flinches and twitches that played out across Renji's skin.

A few minutes later Renji groaned loudly and Ichigo realised that Byakuya had sped up. He must be getting close. Was he going to let Renji come too, or make him wait. Either way, Ichigo got to admire the view, which was a pretty damn good one. He didn't get to see Byakuya like this often. The guy was such a control freak that by the time he came, everyone else was normally half dead and snoring, so the only time it happened was when Renji decided to 'make Byakuya fly', as he put it. And even then, Ichigo was rarely in a state to appreciate it.

Right now though, he was completely with it, and the sight was well worth appreciating because Byakuya was riding Renji like the star of the really expensive porn that Mizuiro sometimes got a hold of. Ichigo could see the strain on Byakuya's thighs as he rose and fell, his rhythm perfect as his back arched and his hand flew over his dick. With his long hair swinging, that yukata slipping down to bare pale shoulders, and his head tipping back the way it was, he looked like sex incarnate.

Sweat was beginning to pour off Renji, and his face seemed permanently twisted into an expression that could have been pain or pleasure. He was trying to thrust, tattoos appearing to writhe as his muscles clenched and relaxed, straining against the bite of the ropes as though he had no control over his body's actions.

As Ichigo watched them, his own arousal building, Byakuya's eyelids fluttered closed and colour began to flush his cheeks, spreading down his neck to his chest. He let go of the chain on Renji's chest to tug on his own nipples, and quiet moans, strangled as though he was scared someone would hear him, began escaping from between his tightly clenched teeth.

Suddenly his eyes flew open and he slammed down onto Renji, falling forwards, hips jerking and fist pumping those last few times before he shot hard onto Renji's chest and belly, his whole body shaking with the force of it. Ichigo's balls tightened at the sight, his dick twitching with more optimism than ability, and when Renji cried out a moment later, he couldn't prevent his own echoing guttural moan.

For long moments, as they both shuddered through the aftershocks, Byakuya didn't move, then he leaned forward and breathed a kiss onto Renji's mouth, the skin around his eyes tightening only slightly as he eased himself off Renji's body.

Renji made a sad sound and Ichigo expected Byakuya to start untying him. Instead, he stayed where he was, crouching over Renji, and simply slipped off the blindfold, his fingers caressing the side of Renji's face as he pulled the cloth away. Renji blinked at bit dazedly and gazed up at him, and even Ichigo could tell that his expression was more worship than love. The guy was out of it, completely.

Rather than respond, Byakuya plucked up the chain on the nipple clamps and tugged. Renji grunted, obviously trying not to move. Byakuya did it again, this time keeping the pressure on as he said, "I am very annoyed with you, Renji. Your actions have embarrassed me in front of my peers and you know how I don't like to be embarrassed."

Renji shook his head vigorously, nostrils flaring as he breathed deep and fast. What Byakuya was doing had to be freaking agonising and Ichigo was tempted to try and help, except he had a bad feeling it might just make things worse. Kuchiki-taich? could be unpredictable when his temper was up.

"You are mine, Abarai Renji," Byakuya continued, short and sharp tugs on the chain punctuating his words. "My fukutaich?, my sworn vassal, my lover. You seem to have forgotten that." Another shake of the head and those were definitely tears in Renji's eyes.

Ichigo was on the brink of tossing caution to wind and ploughing in for a rescue anyway, when Byakuya released the chain and sat back. "What am I to do with you?" he said and now, rather than angry, his voice just sounded sad. He reached down, fingers gently brushing a few escaped hairs from Renji's face. "Your courage is your greatest asset but it must be tempered with logic and guided by the law. When you stand at my side, you are of my clan, and if we do not abide by the law, Renji, then no others will, and Seireitei will fall into chaos."

As he spoke, Byakuya began slowly untying knots, starting with the ones around Renji's neck. "But you know this. It is the first lesson I taught you when I brought you home from the proving grounds, untamed rat that you were back then. And yet still you disobey me. I had thought us past all this. I trusted that my priorities had fully become yours, and that we could move forward as a team."

The rope in Renji's mouth was next to go and, despite still being tied hand, foot and balls, the first thing he said was, "I'm really sorry, taich?." Even his voice sounded small and constricted, like it was tied up too. And maybe it was. Bound up in Byakuya along with the rest of Renji.

"I know you are and that, in so many ways, is why I am so frustrated by this entire affair, " Byakuya said, pausing briefly to drop another kiss on Renji's lips and soothe the reddened corners of his mouth with his tongue. "You allowed Ichigo's passion to turn your head, despite knowing that the boy is dangerous."

Ichigo only just stopped himself from protesting that. He wasn't dangerous! Not to his friends.

A moment later Byakuya explained himself. "He has so much heart and no discretion. But he is young and, despite his father's crimes, he has noble blood. People will look the other way for a few years yet. They will not do the same for you, and it frightens me. I do not want to lose you, Renji, and I will if you continue down this reckless path."

"I won't, I promise. Taich?, please, forgive me. Let me prove myself worthy to you." Renji's reply, full of shame and humiliation, was so different from how he normally spoke that for a brief moment Ichigo wondered if maybe Byakuya had put the whammy on him, or drugged him, or something.

Then he remembered the Renji in the tent, the one who'd been ready to gut himself with the tant?, and he realised that what he was seeing was another side of that. Renji and Byakuya would die for each other, Ichigo believed that with all his heart, but he could see now that that level of commitment had come at a price. And from where Ichigo was sitting, that price was all being paid by Renji.

Total obedience. No, that was too simple. Obedience suggested choice, and Ichigo was finally realising that for some people in Soul Society there was no choice. A common shinigami like Renji had to submit or he would be discharged. And if he was discharged, he would die, probably at the hands of one of the mad scientists. So this wasn't obedience, it was more like the relationship between a prisoner and their jailer. Despite all their declarations of love, Renji was completely dependent on Byakuya for everything, because if Byakuya chose to withdraw his favour, then Renji would die in the most hideous way imaginable.

Ichigo tried to fathom what it must be like to live with that knowledge every day, and failed. He'd been vaguely aware of the repercussions of falling into Urahara's hands during that hellish few hours at the arena, but he hadn't really understood what it meant. And now, he was safe. Even if Byakuya threw him out tomorrow, Ichigo wouldn't end up at the 12th. He still had his clan to fall back on.

Or did he?

Was he just kidding himself that he was different from Renji?

If Byakuya did chuck him out, would he be able to survive?

There was no Shiba estate, so Ichigo would have nowhere to live. He was signed up with the 6th, so no other division would take him. He didn't even know how to get spending money without asking Byakuya for it, since all the clan's legal documents and financial records were held by the Kuchiki lawyers.

Up until now, none of that had mattered, but Ichigo was starting to see that he'd ended up in a potentially really dangerous position. Karin was also a Shiba and she was a member of the 6th. Her life could be ended by a single word from the captain, or she could be elevated to clan head if Ichigo was no longer in the picture. Yuzu was just as vulnerable at the 4th if Byakuya decided to pull in favours.

Everything Ichigo owned, everything he was, everyone who mattered to him, lay in Kuchiki Byakuya's hands. And there was no one Ichigo could turn to for help if he really needed it.

Damn it, he had allowed himself to be cornered and hadn't even noticed.

But what could he do?

He rolled over, shifting towards the edge of the bed, needing more distance between himself and his problem, his mind a whirling mess of contradictions. From behind him came the sound of more knots being untied and bodies shifting. Ichigo blocked it out. It was too much, too distracting. He needed to think.

Byakuya wouldn't hurt him or his sisters deliberately, Ichigo was pretty sure of that. The guy wasn't gunning for them in that way. He wasn't their enemy, like that. But he was a control freak, and not just in bed. Always, with Byakuya, it was his way or the highway, and if it came down to a fight, given what he'd just worked out, Ichigo didn't think he could win. Which meant that no, he wasn't in any better shape than Renji. He was just as dependent, just as trapped.

Except he had time to extricate himself, and the potential resources if he could access them. He had to find a way of going around Byakuya rather than through him. He had to construct his own network, his own alliances, find his own friends. Then, and only then, would he be able to tell Byakuya 'no' and not risk everything he cared about being destroyed.

It would start first thing tomorrow, he decided. With Matsumoto. She already owed him for the rescue. Okay, she was a divisionless shinigami who could end up dead herself if Ichigo couldn't find her a place to go, but she was fukutaich? level, and more to the point, she knew people. People not in the 6th. She knew how Seireitei worked, what made it tick. And most importantly, she wasn't Byakuya.

* * *

Ichigo sat with his head down, cradling his natto and rice, and trying not to look at either of the guys sharing the table with him. Was this what passed for normal for them? Did they do it a lot? Sitting here sharing breakfast and having a normal conversation while everyone ignored the bruises on Renji's neck and arms.

Apart from Renji being a bit more deferential than he normally was at home, it honestly could be any morning. But for Ichigo, it wasn't. He didn't think he could ever go back to feeling the way he had before. It was like finding a dead bug in your favourite dish. You still wanted to like it but nagging in the back of your mind was that horrible feeling that the next mouthful was going to contain something bad.

"Koniwa will take the squad exercises this afternoon, Renji," Byakuya was saying. "I want you with me in the disciplinary hearing for squads seventeen and twenty."

At the mention of his escort's squad number, Ichigo started taking an interest. He'd wondered what the fall out was going to be for them for breaking the law, but everyone he'd asked just said it was going to be up to the captain.

"Right, yeah. Guess they'll be glad to get it over with," Renji replied, wrinkling his nose. "It's not a capital offence but..." he hesitated for a second, his eyes flicking up to Byakuya before returning to his breakfast, "you're not gonna dismiss them, are you, taich?"

Dismiss them? As in chuck them out of the 6th? Ichigo hadn't even known that was a possibility.

He was speaking before he really thought through what he was saying. "No fucking way! You can't throw them out! They didn't do anything wrong!"

By the time he'd finished, Renji's shoulders were up round his ears and he said, "They broke the law, Ichigo. They can't be allowed to get away with that."

Ichigo didn't miss the approving look Byakuya shot at Renji at hearing him speak that way. Even so, he couldn't let the subject rest. "Only because we did. Fuck it, Renji, you know they would never have hopped the wall into the 10th if we hadn't gone first."

"But it was still their decision. They chose to come with us," Renji argued. "Just like Sou, Take and Heishi decided to help us rescue Matsumoto and Yachiru. They could have left with the others. They didn't."

"But-" Ichigo began.

"No!" Renji said emphatically over the top of him. "Those three knew what they were getting into. They knew they were taking a hell of a risk when they decided to stay and help us, but if you went and asked them, right now," Renji shoved a finger in the general direction of the 6th, "I bet they're all really bloody proud of what they achieved that night. So, quit it. Quit trying to turn something they did that's good into something they should be ashamed of."

"Well said," Byakuya murmured into the silence that followed Renji's outburst.

Ichigo stared at him askance, completely confused by this turn of events. "But they broke the law," he protested once he found his voice, "and you itold/i us that was wrong, so how come you're agreeing with Renji, that they shouldn't be ashamed of what they did?"

"Because it was an informed decision," Byakuya replied. "They knew the consequences of their actions, decided to act anyway, and have made no attempt to avoid due punishment. My annoyance with you was based on your denial that you had done anything wrong at all, and with Renji on the fact that, as my fukutaich?, he failed to consider the larger implications of what he was doing. For those shinigami, the risks they ran were primarily their own. Had they been caught by the 10th, they would have been killed out of hand. Having been caught by their own division, they will be punished according to our regulations."

Okay, that made a sideways sort of sense. There were times when Ichigo thought he'd never understand the way people in Soul Society looked at the world.

"But you're not gonna throw them out," he pushed.

"Probably not," Byakuya said, leaning over to help himself to some of the grilled fish. "They are all excellent shinigami who have been with the division for many years. And since you and Renji have been publicly punished, docking their pay and demoting Take to the ranks should suffice."

That wasn't so bad. It still rankled at Ichigo that they were being punished at all, but at least they weren't in danger.

"Which reminds me," Byakuya said, "There are papers needing your signature, Ichigo. You will make yourself available when required."

Already feeling prickly, Ichigo balked at Byakuya's tone as well as the words.

It wasn't a request. Hells, it wasn't even an order. What Byakuya had done was make an assumption that informing Ichigo was all he needed to do to make something happen. Not to mention the fact that, if it was to sign papers, then it probably had nothing to do with Byakuya at all. They were probably Shiba clan business.

Ichigo bristled, all his resentment from last night about being dependent on Byakuya for everything coming roaring back. Sure he was grateful to Byakuya for helping him out okay, for saving his life, damn it but the guy couldn't think that Ichigo was just going to roll over and play dead for the rest of eternity.

Rather than answer, he put down his breakfast, sat up a bit straighter and said, "As head of the Shiba clan, I think I ought to be the one deciding where my signature should go, don't you?"

Renji choked on his tea and had to grab for a napkin. Beside him, Byakuya paused, his laden chopsticks halfway to his mouth and his eyebrows rising in surprise.

Ichigo kept his face absolutely expressionless, even as he was running celebration laps in his head at having got them to react like that. Fuck them, he thought. It was about time he started sticking up for himself.

That was when Byakuya turned the whole thing on its head. Levelling a serious look at Ichigo, he said, "I would agree entirely, if this were purely clan business. However the s?taich? does not appreciate fines remaining unpaid for too long, so I would recommend against delaying the transfer of funds unnecessarily."

Shit. All Ichigo's righteous anger leaked away like air out of a punctured balloon. "Right," he said, shoulders dropping. "The fines, yeah. I'd forgotten about them." He picked up his breakfast again and began shovelling food into his mouth.

"Spoken like a true noble," Renji commented, and Ichigo didn't miss the quick look Byakuya threw at him, nor the way Renji dropped his eyes in response.

It wasn't fair, Ichigo decided as he ate. Okay, so he was a noble, but he hadn't asked to be one. If anyone deserved to be clan-head it was Kukkaku, or failing her, Ganju. They actually were Shiba. He was just a renamed import.

Maybe he could ask Ganju about it when he tracked him down. He really did need to get to know the guy better. But how could he find him without going through Byakuya? There had to be some way.

"Ichigo?... Ichigo!"

"He's gone again, just like last night." A finger poked Ichigo in the shoulder and Renji said, "Oi! Ichigo! Damn it, she must be really pretty to make you zone out like that." When Ichigo glared him, he smirked and said, "Who is it then?"

"Ganju," Ichigo snapped back, more bothered about righting his tipping breakfast bowl before it dumped the contents all over the table than thinking about what he was saying.

Byakuya's eyebrows shot up and one side of his mouth quirked slightly. "I do not think he would make a kissing cousin, Ichigo," he said, the humour a bit forced as was usual when he tried to make a joke.

Ichigo's mind suddenly filled with images of Ganju all puckered up and waiting for kiss. He shuddered. "Fuck, no! He looks far too much like dad-" His teeth clacked closed over the sentence too late to stop it coming out and all he could think was, 'crap, crap, crap'. His dad was the last subject he wanted to bring up with Byakuya. Ever. Way to take a bad situation and make it worse.

But instead closing down like Ichigo expected him to do, Byakuya's eyes softened. He sighed, put down his tea and turned towards the window, staring out at the windswept garden. The screens were pulled back, as they always were in the mornings, and only Ichigo's close proximity to the brazier was stopping him shivering. The chill didn't seem to be bothering Byakuya. For long moments he sat there, unmoving, his expression oddly gentle.

Eventually Ichigo glanced at Renji who gave him a 'no clue' shrug, and they both turned back to Byakuya, who now apparently had shut them out. At least, he'd averted his face and dipped his chin, as he normally did when he was thinking deeply.

It was strange, Ichigo thought, how the man could go from almost human to doing a good impression of a ice cube in less than a heartbeat. And then Byakuya turned to look at him and Ichigo realised that he'd got it all wrong yet again, because there was nothing cold in that gaze at all. It was all fierce heat, of the type that, even if it were denied air and fuel, would still burn for centuries.

"My uncle and my father took a small group of promising trainees out to the 44th district of east Rukongai," Byakuya began, and Ichigo immediately thought, 'holy shit! He's actually gonna to tell me!'

"It was the middle of summer and there had been reports of a small hollow nest located in one of the forests. Rather than return to Seireitei each night, they decided to camp out while they tracked it down. Isshin and I were invited to join them once our business in the Living World was complete." As he spoke, Byakuya's gaze drifted, away from Ichigo's and back towards the window, though there was no way he was seeing the garden, that much was totally clear. He was miles and years away from this room.

Ichigo found himself drawn into the tale. He knew 44th district east. It was arable, mostly, but isolated from its adjoining areas by dense woodland that was a bitch to make passage through even for shinigami. It was the perfect place for secretive hollows.

"Isshin and I did not travel together." Byakuya blinked, paused for so long that for a moment Ichigo actually started wondering if he was going to carry on at all, and then he said, "I cannot express how much I wish that we had. Perhaps if I had been there... " The words drifted away in another silence. A horrible painful silence.

"You don't have to-" Ichigo began, only to feel Renji's hand clamp down on his shoulder. He glanced at him and got a definite head shake for his pains. No interrupting then, right.

"But might-have-beens are not important," Byakuya continued as though Ichigo hadn't spoken at all. "When I arrived, the camp was empty. At first I assumed they had located the nest and had gone to exterminate the hollows, but strangely, the servants were also missing - the household ones who always accompanied my uncle and father in the field. They should have been with the tents, preparing the evening meal, and yet there was no sign of them. Nor was there a guard posted.

"Wary and suspicious I searched the edges of the camp for a clue as to what might have happened. A bandit attack, perhaps, or maybe the hollows had been stronger than anyone had suspected. What I found was my uncle's footman staked to a tree by his own sword."

Ichigo choked back a gasp. Even after what Ky?raku had said, hearing it this way made it so much more real.

"And he was not the only one," Byakuya said, his voice heavy with regret and pain. "I found them all, one after another, killed in the same way and nailed up like trophies. The servants, and then the trainees, including my two younger cousins. They were not much more than children and yet they had not been spared.

"My father had been cut in half and that was the first clue I had as to who was doing this terrible thing. You see, as Isshin's student I had seen his special attack many times and as you know, the injuries getsuga tensh? leaves on a body are absolutely unmistakable."

This time Ichigo couldn't contain his surprise. Getsuga tensh? was his move, the one Zangetsu had taught him less than a month ago. His father used that attack as well? To murder people? His friends? In cold blood?

A moment that had been an amazing and private revelation suddenly felt dirty. Everything, from the name to the technique itself, was tainted by his father's violence.

iDo not let it touch you, Ichigo,/i Zangetsu's voice came in his mind. iWhat we have is still ours alone and always will be. That cannot be undone./i

Just hearing Zangetsu's voice was as much reassurance as his words. Ichigo took a deep breath and forced himself to keep listening.

"By now I was on my guard," Byakuya was saying, his voice now far more matter of fact. "The trees ahead had been destroyed and so I approached carefully, Senbonzakura ready to attack at the slightest provocation. Isshin and my uncle were at the centre of the clearing. My uncle was already down. Burned away to cinders. Isshin stood over him with Engetsu in his hand, dripping crimson with Kuchiki blood."

A frown creased Byakuya's forehead. "You should know that at the time, I had not yet achieved bankai and knew that, since my shikai was no match for Isshin, if I was to defeat him, it must be with a sealed blade and by ambush.

"However I was also young. And I had just found many of those dear to me murdered in cold blood by a man who was a second father to me. Seeing him thus, I allowed my emotions to triumph and cried out as I attacked.

"Isshin's kid? is very strong. He flicked me away with no more than a single finger, casting me into the ruined trees. Senbonzakura... I..." Byakuya seemed to stall, and Ichigo got the sense of something intensely private being decided. When he began again, Byakuya didn't mention Senbonzakura at all. "Rather than come to kill me, Isshin fled. I went after him, knowing that he must try to leave Soul Society and that the Shiba senkaimon was his only chance.

"I was closing on him, and would have taken him down if... " Another pause and another slight subject jump. "Gin was at the estate. In his testimony afterwards, he claimed all he saw was his captain being pursued by an unknown shinigami and that he acted as any good fukutaich? should in defence of his superior. But I know that he saw me, and recognised me. And yet he still struck to kill." Byakuya's fingers drifted to the three scars, on his chest, belly and shoulder. Put there by Ichimaru Gin, which explained why Byakuya disliked the guy so much, Ichigo realised.

"Only the timely appearance of the guards alerted by the breach of the estate walls saved my life. Even with their intervention, I was still confined to the 4th division infirmary for over six weeks and it took the combined efforts of Ky?raku,Yoruichi and Ukitake to keep the 6th safe from the vultures who would have ripped it to pieces in their feeding frenzy.

"When I was released, it was to the news that Shiba Isshin had vanished without trace into the living world and the decision had been taken that no manpower could be spared to search for him. Instead the Shiba clan was forced to pay reparations and blood price. Kaien, Kukaku and Ganju were the only survivors."

Except for Isshin, of course, and now Ichigo and Karin and Yuzu. And according to Renji, Kaien had been killed later trying to make up for what Dad had done.

How much family had been lost, Ichigo wondered. Shiba, and Kuchiki as well. And why, dad? Why?

Ichigo had his mouth open to ask that very question when Byakuya turned so their eyes met again, and Ichigo could see they were full of too many deaths to count and no answers. "In one night, Ichigo, your father destroyed not one clan, but two. And I still do not know why."

"Have you asked him?" Ichigo blurted, and then quickly added when Byakuya looked shocked at the question, "Yeah, okay, not at the time with him running off and all, but since he was brought back? Have you gone and asked him why?"

Byakuya rose to his feet, shaking his head and Ichigo realised his window of opportunity was rapidly closing. Byakuya had had his say and was withdrawing again. It wasn't fair. Byakuya was the only one he could ask about this stuff. "Why not?" he demanded. "He might answer you now. Don't you want to know?" He was getting desperate, careless in what he said, but couldn't bring himself to care. Not when Byakuya treated people the way he did, like they were nothing but his toys to play with. Maybe a bit of the same careless treatment would do him good. "Are you scared of finding out it wasn't Dad and that half my family got killed because you got it wrong?"

"Okay, that's enough," Renji cut in before things could get even worse. "Apologise, right now."

"Fuck off!" Arms folded across his chest, Ichigo scowled up at Byakuya, though his reply was aimed mostly at Renji. He'd been the one to tell Ichigo to stop running away from these fights. Well, this was what happened when Ichigo stopped running, and if Renji didn't like it, tough shit.

Byakuya blinked. Over the past few months Ichigo had slowly learnt to read meaning into the minuscule changes around those grey eyes but right now, he could only guess at what was heading for him. Fury, he thought, an unleashing of that temper like he'd experienced that first night. He braced himself for it, determined to give as good as he got this time, only for Byakuya to close down completely.

"I see," he said coldly, and like a book snapping shut, his expression went abruptly blank. "Kurosaki-sanseki, you will attend to your duties and then return to quarters," his words effectively derailing any continuation of the fight and thus Ichigo's chances of getting more answers. Which sucked.

But hang on, duties? Return to quarters? That wasn't how his day was supposed to look. "You said I could help Rangiku and the others," Ichigo protested. This was so fucking typical!

He opened his mouth to continue, only to have Byakuya speak over him, "As you may, but only once your duties are complete."

Which meant... Fuck, he'd have to at least tackle his mountain of paperwork before he could get away. "Fine," he snapped, stomping to his feet. "Guess I'd better get started then. Unless there's anything else his highness would like first?" And this really was getting out of hand but somewhere in Ichigo's head, the things that had happened last night had got mixed up with his Dad's supposed crimes and this whole shitstorm with Rangiku and he couldn't make head nor tail of what he was thinking and feeling any more. Lashing out felt right, and so that's what he was doing.

"Ichigo..." Renji growled, and even as far gone as he was, Ichigo heard the warning in it. He ignored it. Refusing to back down, he glared at Byakuya across the breakfast table, aware of the slowly rising level of reiatsu in the room. Renji knelt between them and Ichigo almost felt sorry for him, except Renji never fought back. Byakuya said shit and Renji was already jumping on the fucking shovel, so yeah, maybe he deserved to be on Ichigo's shit list too.

Rather than answer, Byakuya simply reached into his shihakush? and withdrew a familiar pair of gloves. Ichigo clamped his jaw shut over every rude thing he wanted to say and held out his hands. He might hate these things, but like he'd said to Byakuya the night before, he did get it, and so he would comply. But that was the only fucking rule he was following. From now on nothing was gonna get in the way of him doing what he knew was right.

* * *

Brave words, in retrospect.

Ichigo glared at his never-shrinking pile of paperwork. He'd sent a message off to Karin, requested a visit with Yuzu for tomorrow, signed off on three hell butterflies for Rangiku's friends, and now he was stuck. Rangiku was next, but he'd promised her a trip out and he couldn't leave until he'd finished this lot. And it was already well past lunchtime.

He sighed, picked up the next form and read through it. A requisition for new bedding for the fifth barrack block. Since it was the second this month, he refused it and sent it back to them with the note in margin asking what the hell they were doing down there, making parachutes out of the sheets?

"Having fun?"

Ichigo glanced up with a grimace. Renji leaned in the doorway, with another stack of papers in his hands. Just fucking perfect. "Oh yeah, riveting. If that's more work, you can piss off."

"Nice attitude," Renji replied, sounding more tired than irritated as he shoved off the door-jamb and wandered over to Ichigo's desk. "Actually I thought I'd let you know that taicho's finished with the disciplinaries."

"Are they okay?" Ichigo demanded immediately, rising from his chair. "He didn't throw them out, did he?"

Renji waved him back down, expression mildly amused as he perched on the edge of Ichigo's desk. "Nah, just busted Take back to the ranks and put the lot of them on half wages for six months, like he said he would. Yer sister should be pleased. That means there's a seat opening up and taich? all but promised her the next one. Only fifteenth, but it's a start." He paused, giving Ichigo a long steady look. "And speaking of taich?, I dunno what's got into you today, but he ain't some monster, you know. What you said over breakfast, he doesn't deserve crap like that."

Said the guy who'd been trussed up like a chicken last night and made to beg for forgiveness. Ichigo snorted in disgust and turned his attention back to his work, only to find Renji's hand planted in the middle of the sheet he was working on. He glanced up again, directly into Renji's annoyed glare.

"What?" Ichigo asked.

Renji moved his hand and sat up. "I was about to ask you the same thing." He hesitated. "Is it about what happened last night? Was it... I dunno, too intense or something? That what's bothering you?"

That brought Ichigo up short. Renji thought this was about him? "No, that was... yeah, intense is a good word, but it was okay, just kinkier than I expected." To be honest, after what he'd seen Byakuya do to Renji, he'd almost forgotten what had happened to him.

"Then what the hell has crawled up your ass?" Renji demanded.

To tell, or not to tell? Given that Renji didn't look like he was moving until Ichigo gave him an answer, there didn't seem like there was much choice. "I woke up afterwards," Ichigo said, and though he wanted to keep eye contact with Renji, he just couldn't. Feeling his face heat, he dropped his gaze as he continued, "I saw what he did to you, with the rope and the clamps and stuff. What he made you say."

Silence. After a moment or two, Ichigo raised his eyes to find Renji staring at him with a oddly lost look on his face as though Ichigo was speaking a language he couldn't quite get a handle on.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." Watch? Invade your privacy? They were on the bed next to him, for fuck's sake. He wasn't sure about Renji, but Ichigo was starting to suspect that Byakuya might have known he was awake and listening in all along. Two lessons for the price of one sounded about right for the control freak.

"S'alright," Renji was saying, a broad smile plastered into place that Ichigo didn't believe for a minute. Not when he could see the fading bruise that curled around Renji's neck. "It was just a bit of fun. Ya shoulda told us. Ya coulda joined in. Woulda been good."

"It looked kind of private, I didn't want to get in the way," Ichigo replied, and then added because he just had to, "Look, I know you're sworn to him, but if you ever wanted to, I'd take you in a heartbeat. As a Shiba, I mean. You don't have to stay, just to be safe from Kurotsuchi." Now he sounded like one of those talks they did in school about domestic violence. And he was using it on Renji. All six foot three of him. Ichigo decided he must be insane.

Renji apparently thought so too. With a deep frown, he snapped, "What the hell? Seriously, Kurosaki, you're getting delusional. You need a break." He slid off the desk, came round behind Ichigo's chair and yanked it back, almost shooting Ichigo out of it. "Leave that paperwork, and scram. Go sort your lost puppies and then we can get back to some kind of normality around here."

"Really?" Ichigo asked. It was the last thing he'd expected, but when Renji growled at him, he decided to take the offer at face value and scrammed.

His first port of call was the main desk and Hisana. If he was going out he'd need an escort. "Hey," he said as drew near.

She glanced up and, seeing who it was, smiled. "Good afternoon, Kurosaki-sanseki," she said brightly, "Finished all your work already?" It was hard to believe that this was the same woman he'd thought so cold when they'd come for him in the living world. Though, in retrospect, she had, like all the others, stood by while her boss killed three kids, so maybe he shouldn't dump his initial impressions too soon.

Anyway, she was certainly a hell of a lot friendlier than she had been back then. Ichigo put it down to him being in with the captain and Renji. Hisana struck him as the sort of woman who always knew exactly where her next meal was coming from.

"I need an escort," he said as she cocked an enquiring brow at him. "And I'm guessing Take's not on duty."

"She most certainly is not." That earned him an admonishing frown. And reminded him what Byakuya had said about her making a good lieutenant for Renji. She liked the rules, that was for sure, so maybe he wasn't wrong. But if Renji got her, who would he recommend for Ichigo? Koniwa?

"But there is someone," he persisted. "If I go out without-"

"There is a unit on standby," she interjected. "What time and where?"

Having made the arrangement for the escort to meet him at the main gate in fifteen minutes, Ichigo hurried across the grounds, keeping his head down so no one found him with anything else to sign. He was so intent on getting where he wanted to be that, when the infirmary doors flew open, they damn nearly smacked him in the face. He leapt backwards as two medics came barrelling out toting first aid bags and a stretcher between them.

"Everything okay?" Ichigo called after them, momentarily torn between his duty as third seat and his commitment to Rangiku. He really should go with them if it was serious.

"Nothing we can't handle, sir! Just an kid? misfire," one of the medics yelled back with a wave. Ichigo let them go with a resigned shake of his head. Training accidents weren't uncommon and there wouldn't be much he could do to help.

The place was busy inside as well. He caught sight of the head medic, Takata-san, tending a couple of bloodied looking figures who probably should have been at the 4th, before ducking into the tiny room Rangiku had to herself. Her friends, all being guys, shared an equally small one next door.

She greeted him with a smile and a respectful, "Good afternoon, Kurosaki-sanseki," as she closed the book she'd been reading. The standard issue pale green yukata was gone, and in its place she was wearing a pretty blue kimono with fish printed along the edges that matched her pale pink scarf. Her hair was properly brushed and the bruises on her face and arms were fading. It made Ichigo's gut churn to think about how they'd got there, and how some of Renji's were in the same places, for the same reasons.

"I told you," he said, distracting himself by grabbing a chair and spinning it around so he could sit on it backwards, "just Ichigo is fine."

"Just Ichigo then." Her smile grew warmer and she turned slightly on the bed, curling comfortably on the pillows. Her top gaped a little and Ichigo made sure to keep his eyes to himself. Unlike some people, he wasn't a perv. "Do we have plans?" she asked, tucking her hair back behind her ear. "You did promise me a trip out."

"I did," he said, "and there's an escort all lined up, so we don't have to worry about the 12th either. You got somewhere in mind?" He hoped she did since he hadn't got a clue where to go next. If he could think of a way of contacting Ganju, that'd be a start.

"Actually, I was hoping to visit Yachiru." Her eyes dropped and a small pout made her bottom lip protrude. "Though I don't suppose I'll be allowed to go there. It's so mean keeping me cooped up like this."

It really was, Ichigo had to agree. Rangiku was the victim, yet she was the one being kept under lock and key. But still, the 3rd. That wasn't like visiting a civilian household, or even going to the 13th. The 3rd was Ichimaru's division, and Ichimaru was one of guys Byakuya really hated.

Shit!

Inspiration blossomed in Ichigo's mind like flowers after rain. If there was anyone could tell Ichigo more about what had happened that night, it was Ichimaru Gin! He'd been there! Not only that, but having been Dad's fukutaich?, he probably knew stuff about the Shiba that even Byakuya didn't. He might even know how to get in touch with Ganju.

But would he share? It wasn't exactly a secret that Ichigo was shacked up with Byakuya and if the hatred was mutual, Ichimaru might just refuse to talk to him.

And even if he did agree to talk, it was still going cost Ichigo hard, because when Byakuya found out, and he would, there was no way a visit to the 3rd was going stay a secret for long, the shit was really going to hit the fan. Byakuya would feel like he'd been betrayed, Ichigo knew that. He'd seen his reaction to the ice sculpture during the challenges, and knew that whatever was between Byakuya and Ichimaru it was more than just the stabbing.

On the other hand, maybe Byakuya was wrong about Ichimaru as well as Ichigo's Dad.

Fuck it. There was no way of knowing for sure, but Ichigo wasn't going to let the chance to get at the truth pass him by just because he was scared of some repercussions.

Decision made, he forced his lips into an easy smile and said, "I reckon we can manage that. You want to send them a message first, or turn up unannounced?"

* * *

Ichigo sat with Zangetsu wedged between his thighs, hilt gripped hard in his hand, and pretended to be someone else. He didn't think it was working. Every couple of minutes another hooded figure wandered nonchalantly past the waiting area he and Rangiku had been ushered into, and each visit was followed by excited whispers. He tried not to hear any of them, but things like 'definitely a Shiba,' and 'just like his father' were kind of hard to ignore.

Beside him, Rangiku's smile was getting wider by the second. She kept flicking glances up at him, her eyes dancing with glee and Ichigo just knew that sooner or later she was going to say something.

"Popular today, aren't we, Ichigo-kun," she said finally, and it was almost a relief.

Ichigo huffed at her and slid down in his chair. He was pretty sure his ears were bright red and there wasn't a thing he could do about it. Rangiku's badly muffled giggles at his expense weren't helping.

How could she be so happy all the time? After what had happened to her, she could have been forgiven for cutting everyone off, but there she was, happy and flirty and relaxed like there was nothing wrong with the world. Ichigo didn't think he'd ever met anyone like her. Except maybe his mom. She'd always been smiling; the bright centre of their family that everyone gathered around as though she was the only source of heat. Rangiku was like that; generous and warm and loving. Though Ichigo had a suspicion that she didn't think of him like a son.

Another figure appeared in the doorway. Ichigo braced himself for yet another round of comments, only to have this one tug her hood down and say in a toneless voice, "Kurosaki-sanseki, Matsumoto-san, welcome to the 3rd division."

Tiny, and with her dark hair cut into a short bob, the speaker was definitely the 3rd's lieutenant. Ichigo remembered catching a brief glimpse of her at the arena. He leapt to his feet and bowed respectfully, noticing Rangiku doing the same beside him. "Good morning, Hinamori-fukutaich?," he said.

When he looked up, the expression on her face made him pause. It was an odd combination of fear and hope. A moment later it was gone so completely, replaced by the kind of blankness that would have made Byakuya proud, that Ichigo was left wondering if maybe he'd imagined it.

"Please follow me," she said, "Kusajishi-san is in training with the others. You have permission to visit with her for one half hour."

Thirty minutes. It wasn't very long but Rangiku looked happy, and Ichigo was sure it'd be enough to put his worries to rest. He still didn't understand why Byakuya had sent Yachiru here of all places, but as everyone else seemed to think it was obvious, he guessed it was all right.

The field Hinamori lead them to was huge and surrounded by a reishi barrier, a bit like the one at the arena, though this one was completely opaque. As they waited for it to drop, Ichigo placed his hand against it, cocking his head as the windflower silk blocked his ability to absorb or even sense its power properly. He could still feel it calling to him, but it was like it was calling from behind glass, muted and... safe, he guessed.

When the barrier went down, several small figures appeared, none of them looking tall enough to be over ten and all armed with zanpakut?. Yachiru, only recognisable because she was wearing a bright pink woolly hat rather than a hooded shihakush?, took one look at Rangiku, screeched, "Ran-chan!" and shunpo'd straight for them.

At the speed she was going, the landing was gonna be painful for whoever was on the receiving end. Ichigo got ready to duck. Rangiku was apparently made of sterner stuff; she stepped forward, catching Yachiru with no more than a small grunt at the impact and swung her up high, her face a picture of relief as she folded the little girl in a tight hug.

Yachiru let it continue for a moment and then began shoving at Rangiku's shoulders to be let down. "You stayin', Ran-chan?" she asked, waving her sheathed zanpakut? around. It was pink, just like her hat and the mittens dangling from ends of her sleeves. "You gotta stay. No Boobies is mean. She won't let me have candy till I done my numbers and numbers is boooring!"

No Boobies? Where the hell had a little kid like Yachiru learnt shit like that? And did she mean Hinamori-fukutaich? Ichigo stole a surreptitious glance at the lieutenant. Sure she didn't have as much up top as Rangiku, but still... it was a bit personal.

If the nickname bothered Hinamori, she didn't let it show. She simply watched passively as Rangiku let Yachiru down and allowed herself to be dragged onto the field accompanied by, "Grumpy pants has gone now but you gotta meet Sing-song and Wavey-wavey. They're my new friends."

"I'd love to meet your friends," Rangiku said in reply, "but listen, sweetie, I need you to do something for me. Have you met Ichimaru-taich?"

"You mean captain Funny-face?"

As they drew farther away, their voices grew too faint to hear. Ichigo suspected Rangiku wanted Yachiru to put in a good word for her at the 3rd, which made sense, but he couldn't know for sure. He stood and watched for a while as they finished talking and Yachiru and her friends started demonstrating some complex manoeuvres, then he turned away. Much as he wanted to stay, seeing Yachiru was only part of his task here. He needed to find Ichimaru.

"You did the right thing, you know."

The words were spoken so quietly that Ichigo almost missed them. He stopped in his tracks and slanted a look at Hinamori. She was still watching the antics on the field and Ichigo let his attention drift briefly back to the kids before returning to her. "Maybe," he said, not seeing the point in being too committed about it. That only led to arguments, and he couldn't afford to alienate another division.

Her gaze flicked to him and back again, and Ichigo got the sudden feeling that it wasn't so much that she was watching the kids, as that she didn't want to look at him. Her jaw tightened and she said, "Taich? thinks it was naive, but I remember your father. He would have done it too. He believed in saving everyone."

Like you? Ichigo thought and then dragged his mind away from the careering downward track that would have taken him on. He couldn't start seeing all the female soul reapers in Seireitei as victims or one of them was gonna take him apart while he too busy feeling sorry for them. In that, Renji was absolutely right. Whatever might have happened to Hinamori-fukutaich? in the past, she was a lieutenant now and that was what mattered.

And she'd known his father. "Hey," he said. "I know this sounds like a really dumb question, but you wouldn't know how to get in touch with my cousin, Ganju, would you?"

That surprised actual eye-contact out of her. She stared at him for a moment before saying, "Shiba Ganju? No, no, I'm so sorry, I... " Colour crept into her cheeks. It made her look alive, rather than the wan ghost she normally resembled. "Have you tried at the 13th? Kaien was fukutaich? there before he died. Perhaps Ukitake-taich? could help?"

That was an idea. He hadn't even considered the 13th, which was dumb considering he'd actually been to their compound, unlike most of the Gotei. "Okay, thanks," he said with a nod and was about to walk off, when another thought occurred. "Um," he said, hefting Zangetsu and feeling his own cheeks heat a little, "Where's your captain?"

Her mouth flattened, and her hand drifted to her zanpakut?, her eyes hardening. "Not available, at the moment. Why?"

Ichigo made frantic calm down gestures, "No need to freak out, I just wanted to talk to him!"

"Well, you can't," she shot back. "He's never available except by prior appointment."

"Right," Ichigo said and then added, "Than can I make one?"

That surprised her. "An appointment?" she asked.

"Yeah, for... I dunno, tomorrow maybe?" He'd be out seeing Yuzu, so it wouldn't be that difficult to drop in here and see Ichimaru.

She looked confused as though no one had ever asked before. Did people not want to speak to Ichimaru? Ichigo hadn't never met the guy so he didn't have a clue why people might not like him. Apart from the fact that he'd tried to kill Byakuya.

"Possibly," Hinamori said finally, still sounding a bit bewildered. "Is lunchtime okay?"

Since he was seeing Yuzu at 10, coming here for lunch would be perfect. "Great!" Ichigo said and waited for instructions. When people requested audiences with Byakuya, they were always given a whole list of do and don'ts. When nothing was forthcoming, he said, "Do I just... turn up at the gate and say I'm expected?"

"That would be fine," she said, eyes still huge. Then, a bit breathlessly, she blurted, "It's so good having a Shiba around again. Thank you, for coming back." She might have said more except, at that moment, a brief flash of bright light came from over near the main building. Hinamori's head snapped round, and she was suddenly all business. "I have to go," she said, with a deep bow. "It was nice meeting you. Please tell Matsumoto-san, she is welcome to come and visit Yachiru again in a day or so if she would like." And with that, she left.

Ichigo stared after her. That had not been the sort of bow a fukutaich? made to a third seat. That had been a commoner to a clan-head. Had she been trying to tell him something? Maybe, Ichigo reflected, wandering back over to where Yachiru and Rangiku were doing something complicated with a scarf, Shiba Isshin wasn't as completely without supporters in Soul Society as Ichigo had thought.

* * *

Rangiku was a little subdued on their way back to the 6th. Ichigo tried prodding her for ideas as to how he might help her friends but gave up after a while when she didn't seem interested. They parted with hardly a word exchanged at the entrance to the infirmary, and with no plans for the following day.

It was almost like she didn't care any more, Ichigo thought as he made his back to his office. His pile of completed paperwork sat in the middle of his desk, and on top of it was a note from Renji reminding him that Byakuya expected him back at quarters.

Ichigo picked it up and slumped into his chair, rereading the words slowly. Back to quarters. Was it going to be another night like last night? If it was, could he duck out? He didn't think he could go through that again. Byakuya might be an exacting taskmaster in bed, but he wasn't cruel. Ichigo wasn't sure he could say the same about Kuchiki-taich?. On the other hand, avoiding him tonight wasn't going to help in the long run.

Ichigo sighed and closed his eyes. Year upon year of nights stretched out ahead of him with no way to avoid them and what might come with them. He was stuck, just like Renji was stuck.

iSo challenge me for bankai, then you can have a captaincy for yourself,/i Zangetsu murmured in his mind.

Ichigo's thoughts stumbled to a halt. iYou think I'm ready?/i he asked, confused. He'd only mastered getsuga tensh? a month or so ago, and even now felt that there so much more he could do with it if he practised.

iIt is not about preparation, Ichigo, but momentum./i A resounding silence followed that cryptic comment. Apparently Zangetsu wasn't ready to get into a discussion about it. Still it was food for thought.

When the subject of captaincies had been brought up, Ichigo had always thought about his own as being at least a decade away. Unless Zangetsu was messing him around, which, no, if the old man had a sense of humour then Ichigo had never seen it, he probably did think Ichigo was ready. Excitement burbled in Ichigo's guts. His own division. No more kowtowing to Kuchiki-taich?'s foibles. No more having to watch as Renji was put in his place.

No more splitting guard duty. No more shared bed. No more nights spent fucking and having fun.

Ichigo let that percolate for a moment or two, because even he had to admit that last night had been an anomaly. Most of their nights up till then had been just plain good, and as the weeks had passed and the sex got better, and even Byakuya had stopped stressing out at every little thing, Ichigo had really started to enjoy it. He'd relaxed, started caring for the guys. Maybe even loving them.

Then Ichigo and Renji had broken the law and thrown everything back to square one. Seeing Byakuya in the s?taich?'s rooms yesterday had been like meeting him that first time all over again. His coldness and lack of emotion. There'd been a huge chunk of Ichigo that'd been terrified of what was going to happen. He'd been imagining the worst; execution, jail for centuries. Being told he was going to have to wear gloves had almost been a relief, even if they were vile and felt like a combination of nails down a chalkboard and water in your ears, strapped onto the ends of his arms. He could live with them, and once Renji explained why, Ichigo knew he could even do it without complaining, too much.

But it hadn't ended there, had it. The row in the office, Byakuya's offer later, and then that... whatever the hell it had been.

And that really was the crux of the problem. Ichigo didn't know how to interpret what had happened in bed last night. Yes, Byakuya had been controlling and assertive with him, but fuck it, that wasn't anything new. Byakuya was always a bit like that. Only the level of kink had been new, and that only new to Ichigo. Renji had been well familiar with all of it. So, Ichigo had to assume that those games were familiar ones to him and Byakuya.

Games.

Lying there trying to sleep while Byakuya had untied the ropes and talked Renji through the pain of having the clamps taken off, Ichigo really had felt like he'd been intruding. The history between the two of them was so huge and pretty much unfathomable to Ichigo, and it was just possible, in retrospect, that he'd over reacted. Just a bit. Renji sure as hell seemed to think so, and he'd been the one getting tied up and punished.

Had it just been a sex game?

Had Ichigo overreacted?

More to the point, had he let his feelings over the other stuff about the clan and money and power, colour what he'd seen and heard in bed. And then let all of that get worked up into some kind of nihilistic wrecking ball that he'd let loose over breakfast.

Seen from that point of view, Ichigo could almost understand why Renji and Byakuya were pissed at him. Maybe he should apologise? No, damn it. Because there was some truth in it. The clan stuff was real, as was Byakuya being an asshole control freak about everything.

Maybe he should just push for bankai and get the fuck out. Do it before Renji did. Really strike out on his own.

And then what? Without them, who would he have to watch his back?

There was only one guy Ichigo had ever trusted to do that, and he'd been dead for two years.

For the second time in as many hours, Ichigo felt the light bulb of realisation go off in his head. Yeah, Chad was dead, and so gone to Soul Society! Fuck it all, sometimes he could be too stupid to live. It had only been two years. Chad had to be here somewhere. All Ichigo had to do was find him.


	9. Consuming Gods

It was raining. Trudging back to the captain's quarters and getting wetter by the second, Renji reflected that the foul weather was inevitable really. It kept up the theme for the day; cold, inhospitable and determined to make him miserable, though that might just be the after effects of being stuck in the office with Kuchiki-taichō all day. The one small ray of light in the darkness was that Byakuya wasn't going to be home for dinner, so the chances of another meal going tits up like breakfast were small.

That also meant he got first dibs on the bath. Feeling a bit perkier, he put on a burst of speed and jogged up the front steps, only stopping to toe off his sandals and tabi before going inside. Once there, the stripping began in earnest.

There was, he decided, peeling his sodden shihakushō from suddenly shivering and revolting skin, nothing nastier than wet cold clothing. Except maybe wet hair. His braid slapped against his naked back and not for the first time Renji seriously considered using Zabimaru to just slice it off. Nah, Byakuya'd kill him. Instead, he flipped it over one shoulder, dropped the mess of soaked clothing into a pile and padded along the hallway in just his fundoshi, skin pimpling from the cold.

"Oh, you're back. It's raining?"

Renji glanced up to see Ichigo scowling at him from the library doorway. Unwilling to get caught up in anything before he was warm and dry, Renji kept walking as he shot back, "Ten out'a ten for observation, genius."

"Fuck off, asshole. Hey, you any idea where the stuff went that I brought with me?"

Stuff he'd brought with him? Renji dragged his brain away from warm and soapy and tried to think. "What stuff?" he asked when memory failed to co-operate.

"You know, when you guys -" a significant pause, "when I died, I grabbed some stuff. Karin's ball, shit like that?" The hopeful note at the end of the statement gave Renji a moment's pause. The kid had wanted some things, Renji recalled that much, but he hadn't a clue what'd happened to it afterwards. That night... It had been a while ago now, but as far as Renji remembered, he'd been more interested in getting Ichigo out of his clothes as fast as possible than worrying about gear.

"No clue," he replied finally, "but ya could try asking Koji. He'd not've thrown anything away if taichō didn't tell him to."

"Right, yeah, damn. I should've thought of that. Thanks." Ichigo vanished back into the library. Renji shook his head and carried on towards the bath. Whatever the hell Ichigo was up to this time, Renji did not want to know.

Later, scrubbed clean and immersed in hot water up to his chin with his hair piled up on his head, Renji found himself returning to his day in the office, and more specifically the disciplinaries. Sure he'd told Ichigo that everything had gone okay, and it had, or at least as far as the wrongdoers not being dismissed was concerned. What bothered Renji was the effect it'd had on himself. He'd known it was going to be rough. It had to be. They'd broken the law and taichō had to tear into them to put that across. But standing there, watching as tears shone in Take's eyes and Sou turned the same grey as his hair, Renji had found himself wondering if there wasn't a better way.

If they'd been his guys, he wouldn't just have focused on the stuff Byakuya had. Shame, dishonour, bringing disgrace to the division, sure they were all important, but so was the other side. Renji had found himself wanting to sit down with them and rehash what they'd done, and... this was where his thoughts started taking a left turn... working out how they could've done it better so that they wouldn't have been caught in the first place!

In retrospect, Renji knew he shouldn't have let the group split up. He should've made everyone stay together because then all of them would've had a vested interest in keeping the whole thing quiet. He was pretty sure taichō found out so quickly because one of the group had gone straight back to headquarters and spilt the beans. His second big mistake had been bringing Matsumoto and Yachiru back to the 6th. There were other options. Not as secure maybe, but a hell of a lot less obvious. And without evidence or witnesses, there wouldn't have been a case to answer, no matter how loud Madarame might have howled.

So, yeah, if he was in charge, that's what he'd focus on. If yer gonna break the law, make it good. Make it worthwhile. Make it untraceable. And if yer fool enough to get caught, then stand up and take your punishment.

He slid down so the water crept over his mouth and tickled his ears, enjoying the warmth. At least his guys had done that. Not a one of them had voiced even a single complaint about the sentence.

His mind was drifting off towards less disturbing subjects when the door banged open letting in a gust of cooler air, and Ichigo said, "Koji says Byakuya's not coming back for dinner."

Renji sighed and sat up, readying himself to get out. So much for a relaxing bath. "Yer on a roll this evening, idiot. And yeah, he's seeing Yoruichi-sama." That was twice in two days, and he'd specifically sent Renji home instead of taking him with him. What was he up to?

Ichigo snorted, flopping down on a stool. He fished in the sleeve of his shihakushō and pulled out a short length of gold chain. "How come he spends so much time with her anyway? She's friends with Urahara and I thought he hated that bastard."

Twitching at the name of the 2nd's resident mad scientist, Renji said, "He does, but they're betrothed."

"What, her and…?" Ichigo's expression went from totally confused to warily enlightened. "No, wait... Byakuya and Yoruichi are engaged? Seriously?"

Renji nodded, wondering if it was worth getting comfortable again. "Have been since Byakuya was a kid. It's a noble families thing." He looked up and smirked at Ichigo. "It's not all big bank balances and having servants, you know."

Ichigo scowled. "It's not even that if you're me," he huffed thumping back against the wall, his legs straight out in front of him. The chain dangled from his fingers, which was when Renji realised it had something hanging off it. A circle of gold, like a coin maybe.

Not that it mattered. If Ichigo wanted to talk about it, he would. In the meantime, he wasn't hassling for his turn, so Renji wasn't shifting until he pruned. Renji slid lower in the water, closed his eyes, and enjoyed.

After a minute or two of blessed silence, Ichigo said, "How difficult would it be to find someone in Rukongai?"

"Damn near impossible," Renji replied honestly and glanced up to find Ichigo swinging that coin between his fingers. Was this one of the things Ichigo'd been looking for that he'd brought from the living world? Going by the way he was staring at it, the thing was important. Or had belonged to someone important.

Trying to remember he was supposed to be senpai as well as superior officer and lover, Renji asked, "Was that your mom's?" aware he was treading the edges of some very dodgy ground.

"This?" Ichigo said, holding the tiny gold thing up so it spun at the end of the chain. "No, not mom. It belonged to a friend of mine, Sado. A good friend. The sort of guy you want watching your back in a fight."

"And he's dead." A statement, not a question. If Ichigo was thinking to find this guy in Rukongai, either he was dead or there was something going on out there that was damned strange.

Ichigo nodded. "Ah, about two years ago. A freak accident. Truckload of beer barrels fell on him."

For a second Renji thought he'd misheard. He looked askance at Ichigo. "Beer barrels fell on him?"

"Yeah." Ichigo looked shifty. "He was trying to protect his pet bird."

There were times when Renji was forcibly reminded of the differences between himself and Ichigo. This was definitely one of them. "The guy you'd want watching your back in a fight died trying to protect his pet bird from falling beer barrels."

"It was a thing, okay!" Ichigo snapped back, "Don't judge."

"Hey, I was not judging." Renji held up dripping hands. "I was just trying to..." He had to be sure, even if it poked a raw nerve. "Seriously?" he asked. "A bird?"

Ichigo subsided back onto his stool. "Yeah, it was a talking parakeet. Damn creepy thing, if you ask me."

With that said, silence fell again until Renji, who'd been turning the matter over in his mind, said, "Why'd you wanna find him anyway?" It was a question that merited asking, however the guy'd died.

"Hmm?" Ichigo looked up from his study of the coin and Renji could see the memories in his eyes. It took them a moment to clear but then Ichigo said, "'Cause I'm gonna need a lieutenant and I wanna pick my own."

Rather than have one foisted on him. Not that Renji objected to Hisana. Except he was never going to have the sort of relationship with her that he and Byakuya had enjoyed. Though he supposed, if that was really what he wanted, he could always go and dig around amongst the dregs of Rukongai until he found someone suitable.

Someone desperate and terrified, and ripe for brainwashing.

Where the fuck had that thought come from? Renji blinked into the steam rising from the water, rerunning the line in his head. He gave Zabimaru a tentative poke though it hadn't sounded like the nue, and gained only a sleepy hiss in reply. Not Zabi's idea then. So it had to be his own. Had he really been like that back then?

In a way, yeah, he guessed he had, though that wasn't how he'd felt at the time. Byakuya had saved him, Renji never doubted that, and as a consequence, he owed the guy everything. But he didn't think Byakuya had been specifically looking for someone that day. He hated the proving grounds, avoided them mostly, and so did Renji. The majority of shinigami in the 6th came from inside Seireitei, second generation incomers or younger nobles. The few they did recruit from Rukongai came directly from the camps.

So why _had_ he been out there that day if not looking for someone?

Renji had never asked. Now he didn't want to. He didn't want to think about it at all. With a self-disgusted huff at having let it get to him, he heaved himself upright and stepped out of the tub. He towelled off roughly and was about to grab his yukata when he realised Ichigo hadn't taken his place. Freaking typical. "You taking a turn?" he growled.

Still staring at the coin, Ichigo waved a hand. "Kind of difficult with these on." With Byakuya not having been back, of course he was still wearing his gloves.

A sudden memory of how the cloth had felt against his skin blind-sided Renji. His dick twitched and, hell yes, that was exactly the distraction he needed. "Want me to wash yer?" he asked making no attempt to keep the leer from his voice.

Ichigo started. For a second he didn't move, then his gaze trailed up Renji's naked body like twin suns. When their eyes finally met and Ichigo's tongue slid out across his lower lip, Renji could have sworn the temperature in the room shot up by ten degrees.

"In the bath?" Ichigo asked, his voice lower and huskier than before, and unless Renji was getting dense in his old age, he sure as hell wasn't talking about washing.

Renji shook his head. Byakuya'd kill him if he came back to find they fucked in the bath. "Bad manners that. Clean up after?"

"After," Ichigo stated unwinding to his feet and, for a guy who on a bad day stomped around like a toddler, his movements were like oiled silk when he wanted them to be.

Renji swallowed, and his body took a step back without his permission. He was starting to sweat and his dick had gone from fairly interested to hard enough to hammer nails so fast it was making his head spin.

"These what you're after, Renji?" Ichigo purred as he held his gloved hands up to Renji's chest, just skimming his nipples. And it was a freaking purr. It matched that cat-like slink perfectly.

Voice gone, Renji nodded mutely and took another step back when Ichigo shoved. The wooden wall panel was oddly warm pressed against his back, and with the rough leather and silk slide of Ichigo's hands across his chest, it was all Renji could do to keep his heels on the floor. He might have whimpered, very very quietly.

Not quietly enough apparently. Ichigo smirked up at him. "Like that, do you?" he said and then leaned in to press his lips to Renji's.

Renji grabbed him, one hand on either side of his face and returned the kiss in earnest, dipping inside when Ichigo opened for him and loving the way his tongue came to meet him and gave as good as it got. It was always like this with Ichigo. As much a fight as a sparring session, and if Renji tried to throw the bout, Ichigo just poked at him until he got up again. So different from Byakuya. Even now, Byakuya always expected to take the lead unless he'd specifically given Renji the go-ahead to be the aggressor. It was... disappointing. Renji had hoped they'd be more equal by now but he was willing to keep trying. He was still Kuchiki-taichō's lieutenant and that was bound to have a knock on effect. Maybe when he had his own division.

"You with me?" Ichigo murmured against his lips.

"Fuck, yeah," Renji replied and went deeper again, sweeping his tongue around the inside of Ichigo's mouth and feeling the kid come up on his toes to press himself against Renji. Damn that was good, so good. Fingers dug into his shoulders and Renji scrabbled at the ties on Ichigo's hakama, tugging at the knots until they came undone and then shoving at the cloth until they fell to the floor. Shitagi and kosode were next. Renji made no attempt to separate the two, simply pushing them down Ichigo's shoulders until Ichigo had no choice but to release his grip on Renji so they could slide off to join the hakama on the floor. The fundoshi didn't even take that long and now Renji was happy. With his arms full of naked Ichigo, he could get at what he really wanted.

Ichigo whined through as his nose as Renji's palm closed around his length. Renji dragged himself away from the kiss and panted, "You too. Wanna feel those hands." The next words out of his mouth were a desperate, "Oh, fuck," as slick silk and smooth leather gripped him and worked him in a single long tight stroke from base to tip.

"Oh fucking fuck." If that was how they felt, this wasn't going to last long. _He_ wasn't going to last long. He did his best to reciprocate, keeping up an unsteady rhythm on Ichigo's cock as those hands worked their magic on him, a continuous ripple of slide and pressure that had to be hell on Ichigo's fingers and yet never relented even for a second.

His head dropped forward to rest on Ichigo's shoulder and Renji mouthed at the skin, tasting sweat as he sucked and bit, his hips pumping, ass slapping against the wall and filling the room with sounds that just made the whole thing impossibly hotter. Somehow the gloves were changing. As the cloth got wetter, the leather became slick and clingy at the same time, and the silk a rough scrape that tore at every one of Renji's nerves. He'd never felt anything so good and so fucking terrible at the same time. He choked out a shocky gasp, breath catching and heaving, and Ichigo started to pull away.

"Don't stop!" Renji managed, abandoning his attempts at reciprocation and snatching at Ichigo's ass to stop him leaving. "For fuck's sake, don't fucking stop."

"Okay, okay, I won't," came the breathless reply. It didn't take long after that. The kisses got sloppier, the breathing faster and Renji lost track of which way was up. Only his hold on Ichigo kept him upright and when it finally started to happen, he gripped tight to orange hair and rode it out, his body shuddering through spasm after spasm of ecstasy.

His head was still spinning when Ichigo pushed him to his knees. He went willingly, opening his mouth and letting Ichigo use him while he came down from his orgasm high. By the time he was up for doing more than the occasional rub of tongue, Ichigo had one hand on the wall, the other in Renji's hair, and his abs were like carved granite from the strain he was putting on them trying not to thrust too deep. Renji grabbed him by the hips and swallowed him down, his body tingling at the wordless cry that sprang from Ichigo's lips. Sweat and musk filled his nose and he revelled in it, let the sensations carry him away and living Ichigo's enjoyment along with him. No pressure, no games, nothing but two bodies and the sensations between them. It was good enough to make him long for nothing to ever be different.

"Renji... Fuck, now."

The dick in his mouth hardened impossibly and Renji pulled back just enough to properly feel the jerk and spurt, tonguing the underneath and making Ichigo squirm and slap his hand on the wall in protest. Smirking, Renji swallowed everything then let Ichigo slide from between his lips, slumping back against the wall to grin up at his red-faced and panting lover.

"Bastard," Ichigo muttered, and slid bonelessly to the floor beside him.

"Heh, ya just jealous," Renji shot back, his voice rough. He coughed and swiped a hand across his lips. They were hot and felt sore from the friction and soon his jaw would start aching. Today was turning out to be pretty good after all.

"Okay now this is just gross," Ichigo said a couple of minutes later.

Renji lifted his heavy head, shivered as the cold suddenly hit him and muttered, "What?"

Gloved hands appeared in right front of his face. He blinked at them for a second, taking in the general damp stickiness and smell of sex. "Okay, yeah, that's gross," he said, shoving them out from under his nose and waving at the tap. "Go wash 'em or something."

"Then I'll have wet hands all evening," Ichigo protested even while he was rolling to his feet.

* * *

They were both still in yukata and arguing about how they could dry the gloves without accidentally cooking Ichigo's hands, when the air rang with the strange eerie wail of the static mod alarms outside. Exchanging panicked looks, they grabbed their zanpakutō and barrelled from the bath, along the hallway and out the front door. They were last on the scene, of course. Koji had got there before them, along with several other trained members of the household, and they had someone pinned to the ground between them.

"What have you got?" Renji demanded, striding forwards to take a closer look, aware of Ichigo at his back and grateful for it. When the alarms had sounded, he'd half expected a full scale invasion, maybe someone who thought security might have relaxed a bit a couple of days after a run. But this didn't look anything like that. The figure was small, and its reiryoku was too weak for a serious challenger.

Weak and familiar. Renji frowned. He'd come across that reiryoku before and recently, but where? Koji grabbed the person by the scruff and hauled them to their feet. Their invader was dark-haired and, in the glow of the lights from inside, Renji realised he knew the face.

It was the kid from the 10th who'd testified against them in front of the sōtaichō yesterday. How the hell he'd got this far onto Kuchiki grounds was a mystery, but he didn't look in any fit state to be invading anywhere. Someone had cut off his right arm, at the elbow going by the way the empty sleeve was flapping, and from the way he was crying, he was only on his feet because Koji had a hold of his kosode.

"Okay, let him go, Koji," Renji said.

As Koji relaxed his grip, the kid dropped to his knees and pressed his head to the grass at Renji's feet. "P-please, Abarai-fukutaichō, sir," he stammered, "I didn't know where else to come and they were ch-chasing me."

It didn't take a genius to work out what had happened. Renji had seen Ayasegawa's expression when the kid had screwed up his testimony. They'd probably worked him over, cut off his arm as punishment and then thrown him out to be picked up by the 12th's vultures. And he'd come here to get away from them. Fuck. This was exactly what Byakuya had been afraid would happen.

"Back out the front gates, sir?" Koji asked, already reaching for the kid, who squealed and tried to scramble away, as Ichigo snapped, "Don't you fucking dare!"

Renji held up a calming hand. "I wanna think this through first," he said. If there was some way they could relocate the kid, keep him safe but off the radar, that'd be best. A decent solution for everybody. "What's ya name again, kid?"

Big grateful eyes looked up at Renji. "Rikichi, sir. Thank you, sir!"

"Don't thank me yet," Renji replied, "Okay, let's take this inside."

"You will do no such thing," Byakuya's voice cut across the order. The captain appeared from out the darkness, his haori almost luminous in the night, and all Renji could think was, 'fuck. Couldn't Yoruichi have hung on to him for just an hour longer?'

Koji and the others dropped immediately into deep bows, though Koji's grip on the kid didn't let up for a second. Jaw tightening as he sensed trouble, Renji dipped a bow himself, registering that Ichigo's was even shallower and really more of a nod. Crap, this was going to go to hell, and quickly.

"The 6th does not harbour those who place personal advancement above loyalty to their division," Byakuya continued in the same level tone, then as he swept past them and into the house, he added, "Do your duty, Koji."

"Sir," Koji said and hauled the kid up by the waist. He started kicking and yelling, and Koji slapped a hand over his mouth. Renji watched, torn between obedience to Byakuya and knowing that out on the streets, the kid would be lucky to make it through the night. And there wasn't even any point in arming him. Without a right hand, he wouldn't be able to use a blade.

"He can't do this," Ichigo said under his breath, then louder, "Koji, don't take him anywhere, not for a second, please. Let me... I dunno, let me talk to him? Something?" Having spoken, he spun and sprinted after Byakuya.

Renji went to follow him and, as he turned, his eyes briefly met Koji's questioning ones. Renji didn't flinch. He kept moving, pretending he hadn't seen the insubordination written there, and letting things play out as they would. If Koji chose to disobey Byakuya that was Koji's decision to make. Renji was not going to help him pick sides.

By the time he made it indoors, Ichigo had caught up with Byakuya in the hallway and the row was in full flow. No, it wasn't a row. This was Ichigo shouting at Byakuya while Byakuya stood there and took it, cold as ice, just like that first time. Only Renji knew that this time there would be no backing down, no softening of the blow.

"He's a kid!" Ichigo was yelling, "He won't stand a chance out there, he can't even hold a sword!"

"That is not my concern. Nor should it be yours," Byakuya replied and Renji actually stopped walking at the sound of his voice. He really and honestly thought that Byakuya was going to refuse to engage. The fact that he had, simultaneously terrified Renji and gave him hope.

Caught up in their argument, they were blind to his presence. He stepped silently into the doorway of the shadowed ante-chamber, almost close enough to the pair to touch, and watched. The same part of him that hadn't immediately called Koji out when he'd hesitated over Byakuya's order, was now desperate to know what Ichigo would say.

"What the fuck? Of course it's my concern! And yours, and every other person in this shit hole who calls themselves human!" Ichigo bellowed back, gesticulating wildly.

And there went the hope. He should probably interrupt, get Ichigo out while he was in one piece, something, but still Renji stalled, curious to see how Byakuya would defend himself.

Byakuya's chin lifted, his eyes opened, and Renji could see the rage there. "You are not human!" he intoned. "Sentiments such as these are irrelevant to a shinigami. Our concern is for the balance of the worlds, no more and no less. Those who do not place that as their highest priority do not deserve the protection of the Gotei 13."

"You might not think that, but I do," Ichigo shot back, his expression just as resolute as Byakuya's. "Or at least I think he deserves not to die screaming strapped to a table. So fuck you! I'll take him."

"As I have said, the 6th-"

"Fuck the 6th." And now Ichigo's voice had dropped to a cold clipped tone. "The Shiba will take him."

Silence fell between the two, the only sound that of Ichigo's breathing. For a brief moment, hope surged in Renji's heart again, and then Byakuya said, "I did not install you as head of the Shiba clan only to have you destroy it with your ridiculous human notions of right and wrong."

Ichigo's fist was swinging before Renji could stop it, but instead of making contact with Byakuya, Ichigo spun and punched the wall next to him instead. Breathing heavily through his nose, he leaned there for a moment before dragging himself upright with obvious effort and saying, without turning back to face Byakuya, "You did give me my clan. I owe you for that, just like I'll always owe you for saving my sister's lives, but I'm done being your fucking doormat, Kuchiki. You might get to give me orders as your third seat, but you don't get to give 'em to me as a Shiba. I'm taking that kid, and there's nothing you can do to stop me."

Not waiting to hear Byakuya's reply, he stepped into shunpo and vanished out the front door. Renji stared after him, aware that Byakuya was doing the same beside him. And then Byakuya's attention shifted to him. Renji waited for the blow, verbal or physical, but it didn't come. Instead there was a sigh and Byakuya said, "He's right, you know. Now he is formally a clan-head, there is nothing I can do to prevent him driving the Shiba into the ground entirely. Perhaps I was mistaken trying to save them at all."

He turned and walked away down the hallway towards the bathroom. Renji stared after him, the feeling of being caught between two impossible points of view both physical and agonising, because during the past few hours, Renji had slowly been coming to a pretty terrifying realisation: his loyalties were changing.

Not drastically; he wasn't about to go pick up Zabimaru and take Byakuya's head off; but it had started last night. Faced with the prospect of watching Ichigo being put through the wringer, he'd balked. The kid had reacted badly enough to the strap; the rope would have set him off, and Renji knew what would have happened then. Kuchiki-taichō would have put him down, the same way he used to put Renji down when he fought back in those early days. So Renji'd spoken up, talked back, challenged Byakuya to make something of it, and ended up taking the punishment himself.

And something about that had been different. It had still been good – fuck it all, it was Byakuya. The guy knew Renji's body probably better than he knew it himself, and, despite everything, Renji still loved him, probably always would. But having experienced the other side of that love, the gentleness, the fun, the... oh, for crap's sake, just say it, man... the _equality_ of what a relationship could be, changed everything. Renji had that with Ichigo all the time now. Sure they fought and argued, but it was as friends and equals, or at least close enough to make no difference. Sure Renji sometimes pulled rank but not in the way Byakuya did. Not just to yank on someone's chain, not just to bring them to heel. Not for the fun of it. And he couldn't go back to that. Not now. Not now he knew what it could be.

Standing there in that empty hallway, Renji only knew one thing for certain: he didn't know what the hell to do next.

* * *

It was over an hour before Ichigo returned. Renji spent the time wandering between the door to the bath and the main entrance, hoping that one or the other would give him some clue as to what they expected from him. Ironically they both reappeared within minutes of each other, Byakuya first so Renji was with him in the bedroom, waiting while he changed for bed.

Ichigo arrived in the doorway looking wrecked, shivering with the cold in his thin yukata, his face pale, his eyes haunted. "He's gone," he said. "Koji threw him out and I looked everywhere but he's gone."

"Perhaps he was able to find safety elsewhere," Byakuya said, the first words he'd uttered since his comment to Renji about the Shiba. Renji was used to silences from his captain but there had been something about the quality of this one that had felt different.

"You think that's possible?" The hope in Ichigo's voice was stupidly touching. Renji got a sense of something truly momentous heading down the tracks towards him. And he really really hoped it didn't take him with it when it hit. Life stuck between these two reiatsu-heavy hitters was not turning out to be easy.

The look Byakuya turned on Ichigo was surprisingly gentle. "There are those who are willing to take in the desperate for a price," he said. "Like I have told you before, Ichigo, I take no pleasure in the idea of anyone ending up in Kurotsuchi's hands."

"But you won't take them in yourself."

Renji waited for Byakuya's reply with bated breath. Could they discuss this like adults or was this the end? And if it was the end, which would he choose?

He didn't have to wait for long. Byakuya placed the comb he'd been using on his dresser and said, "I will destroy neither my clan nor my division with exercises in false charity."

"Right. I guess I understand that," Ichigo said, his shoulders dropping, his eyes fixed on the ground. "But that isn't gonna change what I think either."

Silently Byakuya rose and went to stand in front of him. "Your gloves," he said, holding out one hand.

Ichigo began to raise his own, lifting his head. Their eyes met and Renji saw it happen. Something changed in Ichigo's eyes, some switch flicked. Byakuya reached out, his fingers grazing Ichigo's chin and Renji thought, he's going to kiss him. Fuck, no, that is such a bad idea, can't he see? The kid needs some space.

Apparently Byakuya couldn't see it. But before he could get close enough, Ichigo flinched, whirling to stand with his back to Byakuya, arms wrapped around himself. For a second no one moved, no one spoke, and then, "I can't do this any more," Ichigo said into the silence. "I'm sorry, but I just can't." And he ran.

"I should-" Renji began, speaking without even thinking, his hand gesturing towards the empty doorway. It wasn't urgent since he didn't think Ichigo would go far. He'd finally learnt his lesson on that front, Renji was sure.

"Yes," Byakuya said. "You must find him, and organise accommodation at the 6th." He took a deep breath and added, "For the both of you."

"For the both...?" Renji repeated, his brain not quite processing the implications of what Byakuya was saying. Because he couldn't be saying what Renji thought he was saying.

"As of tomorrow, barring any operational requirements in the living world, you are both relieved of your duties with the 6th division." It was coming out like a rehearsed speech. Like Byakuya had worked all this out beforehand. Like he'd known.

"Taichō?" Renji said, his gut tying itself in bewildered knots.

"The pair of you will focus on training, your aim being a captaincy at the soonest possible opportunity. Should you be successful, Kurosaki Ichigo will remain at your side as lieutenant," he continued, as Renji felt his world shatter beneath his feet. "My marriage to Shihōin Yoruichi will be formalised within the month. I would prefer you both gone by then." The colour of Byakuya's eyes was steel beneath ice as he finished, "That will be all for tonight, Abarai-fukutaichō. You may go."

Go.

Leave.

Renji couldn't fathom it. The words made no sense. It was too sudden. He couldn't...

"Abarai-fukutaichō." The warning was unmistakable. Renji knew that arguing was impossible. Byakuya was as stubborn as Ichigo when his mind was made up, but that didn't mean Renji was going to go without putting up a fight.

"Relieved of duty, huh," he said. "In that case, there's no rule against me doing this." And like he'd done with Ichigo earlier that evening, Renji captured Byakuya's face in his hands and drew him into a kiss. For a moment he thought he'd miscalculated badly and then Byakuya melted against him, kissing him back with an urgency that belied the words he'd spoken. Renji took absolute advantage, grabbing at any part of him he could touch and dragging him close, trying to show him that this wasn't the right thing to be doing, that Renji didn't want to go, that the last thing he wanted was to lose Byakuya from his life.

But even from the start, part of him had known that it was destined to fail. After a minute or two, Byakuya's fingers dug into his arms, easing him away and when their lips parted, he said, so quietly that Renji could have missed it way too easily, "Please don't make this any harder than it already is."

"It doesn't have to be hard at all," Renji whispered back, "just let me stay. Simple."

"I cannot."

"The marriage?" If it was that, Renji'd go sort Yoruichi out himself.

But Byakuya was shaking his head. "No, that is merely a convenient excuse." He raised his eyes and Renji now saw the pain roiling beneath the surface. "If the boy is not stopped, he will be destroyed. My hand is too hard, my every attempt to control him simply makes him more likely to resist, and it will bring us both to our knees. That, I cannot afford. I must stand by my clan and my division. To do any less would be to dishonour everything my uncle and father lived and died for.

"During the trial, you demanded your own parole from the sōtaichō. I am giving you Ichigo's as well. Take him, shape him, temper him into the strongest steel and then let him run loose through Seireitei if there are any who can stand against him by then. Use him to make a better world for us."

That sounded almost like an invitation. "Can I come back when I'm done?" Renji asked.

The slightest smile curled Byakuya's lips. "If you still desire my bed by that far date, you have my permission to return," he said. "Now go. Find our wilful boy and bring him to heel. I'm trusting him to you, Renji, don't let me down."

Renji took a step back, and dipped a low respectful bow. "I won't, taichō. I swear, I will keep him safe, even if it costs me everything." Then, heart in his eyes, he followed Ichigo out of the door.

* * *

Ichigo was already at the 6th by the time Renji caught up with him. Whether he thought Byakuya had sent Renji as a spy or to fetch him home, Renji didn't know, and frankly didn't care. He led the way into the main building, pointed Ichigo in the general direction of the lieutenant's office, and then headed off to grab food.

He got one or two odd looks as he walked into the mess, and shrugged them off. By tomorrow everyone would know the bare outlines – that Renji no longer held a favoured position with the captain– and so his separation from the 6th would begin. His gut fluttered nervously and, lip curling, Renji turned his attention to filling bowls with something edible. If they were doing this, they were both going to need to fuel up.

Returning to the office with a heavily laden tray a few minutes later, he paused in the open doorway to study the kid Byakuya had handed over to him so unceremoniously. In the past few months, Ichigo had grown and filled out a lot, there was no doubt about that. He still wasn't anywhere close to Renji in height and build, and probably never would be, but he was a far cry from the skinny kid he'd been when he first arrived. He also had skills. His shikai was absolutely solid, his zanjutsu improving in leaps and bounds, even his kidō was better than it had been, though he was still a bit of a loose canon on that front. It was something they probably should work on, along with co-ordinating their attacks more. They'd been doing some of that, but not with the focus they'd need from here on out.

And there were other things, longer term things, that'd need to be established.

Right now, Ichigo didn't look in the mood to discuss anything however. He was staring blindly out of the window, obviously not seeing anything in this world, and if his shoulders got any higher, they really would be up round his ears.

Renji cleared his throat as he entered the room and pushed the door closed behind him with his foot. The tray went on the desk and without bothering to see if he had Ichigo's attention, he began speaking, as much to break the tense silence as to pass on information.

"Ya lucky, they had noodles tonight, and Tashika's beef stew, so quit moping and come eat." He unloaded the individual dishes and then put a huge bowl of plain rice and a plate of pickled veg in the middle where they could both get at them. Sure it was carbs with carbs but plain food always made the best fuel.

He was pouring hot water onto the tea when he heard Ichigo moving and the chair on the other side of the desk slid back.

"What time's he expecting us?" Ichigo said, his tone was too quiet, too resigned, and his eyes, when Renji looked up, were fixed on the food.

Renji sighed, gave the tea a final poke, and sat down. "He's not, yer off the hook."

"Tomorrow then?"

"Nope. Nor the next day or the one after that." They were never going back. Ever. Sure Byakuya might have said that Renji could return when he was done, but that was only because he knew Renji and that Renji wouldn't leave without that promise.

Sitting here now, Renji knew better. It was over forever. Finished forever.

Renji's gut suddenly dove into nauseating spirals. He felt disoriented, dizzy, like someone had spun him round and round and then let him go.

They had. Taichō had let him go.

He was on his own.

No more taichō.

He swallowed thickly and tried not to throw up.

"Renji? Renji, you okay? Looking a bit pale there, buddy." A hand rubbed firmly up and down his back, and Ichigo's voice, as soothing as it ever got, said, "Since we're still on the premises I'm guessing we've not been dismissed, so what? Probation? Some kind of internal exile?"

Renji managed to shake his head without hurling. "Just out of taichō's quarters," he choked out. Crap, he was never gonna be able to sleep again.

"That all?" The hand paused, before thumping him hard on the shoulder. "Ow!" he protested, as Ichigo said, "Bastard, you had me worried. I thought it was something bad!"

Another punch. The familiar violence did more for Renji's inner turmoil than any amount of reassurance could have. When Ichigo swung for him a third time, he grabbed Ichigo's wrist and yanked, using momentum to send Ichigo sprawling across his legs. A quick twist forced Ichigo's hand up behind his back and Renji found himself the proud owner of a lap-full of neatly pinned, if protesting, Kurosaki.

"Fucker!" Ichigo bellowed, thrashing pointlessly.

Renji smirked down at him, upping the pressure on wrist and thumb just enough to make Ichigo gasp and arch harder against him. It wasn't often Renji got the upper-hand in their horseplay, Ichigo was too good at hakuda to be taken down easily, so he was gonna take his time and relish this victory. Serve the kid right for letting his guard down.

The angle forced Ichigo's ass up in the air and, without making the conscious decision to act, Renji brought his free hand slapping down against it hard. Ichigo froze at the blow, the mood between them changing, twisting into something else.

"Don't," Ichigo said, voice low, though not in warning.

Before Ichigo, Renji's life had been simple. Kuchiki-taichō was his everything; he lived and would have died at the man's command. He'd hardly had a thought that hadn't originated in Kuchiki-taichō's head and he would never have dreamed of not obeying a direct order. And mixed up with the awe and the respect, and complicating all of it still further, was his love for Byakuya, the shy kind man Renji had discovered inside his strict cold captain.

Now everything was a mess. Truths which Renji had relied on his entire adult life, like him always having taichō's back and taichō always being there for him, were suddenly gone. He'd done things in the past few days that would have been impossible six months ago; broken rules, crossed lines, blurred boundaries. It had been terrifying and mind-blowing and frustrating, all in equal measure, but most of all, it was confusing.

Some days Renji craved that early simplicity with all of his soul.

Here, with Ichigo across his lap and the kid's future in his hands, Renji had a chance to recreate it. He could take Ichigo and train him like Byakuya had him. He was strong enough, just, to put Ichigo down and keep him there until he was what Renji wanted; a loyal lap dog who would watch his back and stay with him for as long as he was needed. Renji knew how to do it. He knew the tricks, knew how to fuck with someone's head until Ichigo wouldn't sneeze without Renji's say so, and Ichigo would bend for him in a way that he wouldn't for Kuchiki-taichō. There was enough trust between them, enough mutual respect, that if he tried, Renji could even make Ichigo think that most of it was his own idea.

And it all started here, tonight, with the firm muscle flexing beneath his hand and the slight tremor running through Ichigo's frame.

"Please." That was even quieter and even less like a warning, but what followed was more shocking for Renji than any physical blow. "You don't have to do this. You're not him," Ichigo said.

Again Renji's body acted without his conscious input. He leapt up, sending Ichigo tumbling to the floor where he collided with the legs of the desk, rattling the dishes standing atop it, and lay there gazing up at Renji, his eyes full of something that turned everything upside down and inside out.

Panting hard, Renji stared back and for the longest time neither of them moved. It was like time stood still, though steam continued to rise from the food and the sound of rain started up again outside.

_Not him. _

It had been said with absolute conviction, like Ichigo knew without a single shadow of doubt that Renji would do the right thing. Like he knew Renji's mind better than Renji did himself. He trusted Renji. Utterly and completely. It was stupid and naive and foolish. And it would work, because the only answer Renji had to faith like that was to return it in equal measure.

So yeah, it was all starting tonight, with ground rules they could both live with, and plans they could follow through on. Based on something that'd work for them both. And that was best discussed over food.

Plus the tea was gonna be ruined if he didn't pour it out quick.

Deliberately, he stepped away from Ichigo giving the kid space to move, and said, "Get yer skinny ass up and eat something, yer gonna need yer energy. As of tonight, I've got less than a month to make a run on a captaincy."

At Ichigo's surprised gasp, he glanced back and added, "And you're coming with me. Welcome to my squad, Kurosaki-fukutaichō."

* * *

"So who're gonna aim for? 9th?"

Renji looked up from his bowl, chopsticks poised, and nodded. "Reckon so. Kuna's a flake and there's something seriously wrong with Muguruma. Why?"

Without raising his eyes, Ichigo, who was slouched in his chair and poking at his food like it was poisoned said, "'Cause there is another option." Now he did lift his head, though his expression was veiled. "If we went over there right now, we could have the 6th by morning. He'd not expect it, you know he wouldn't. Not from us."

Renji chewed, swallowed food that suddenly tasted like ash, and put his bowl down on the desk. Sure it was true, but that didn't make it right. And if Ichigo felt that way, then Renji had misread him badly and really didn't want Ichigo watching his back for the next couple of decades. On that subject, Renji's views were identical to Byakuya's. There was a big difference between disagreeing with orders and literally stabbing someone in the back.

"You want to do that?" he asked, knowing that his voice was probably giving him away but not being able to control it.

Ichigo shrugged one shoulder. "Not really," he said, "but I thought someone should bring it up."

"Well don't," Renji snapped back, reclaiming his food, "Crap like that's enough to give a guy stomach-ache! Fuck." He pointed his chopsticks at Ichigo. "Eat."

A lopsided grin curled Ichigo's mouth. He sat up straighter. "Yes, sir, Abarai-taichō!"

The title washed through Renji like a wave of cold water. A captain. Him. "Fuck," he muttered again, ducking his head. Across from him Ichigo snickered, then yelped when Renji kicked him under the desk.

* * *

There was one aspect of this that was bothering Renji a lot, and as the evening drew on and their plans grew more detailed, it became more and more apparent that it was going to be an issue.

Money.

Thanks to the fines he'd had to pay, Renji's personal savings had been wiped out, which meant he was facing taking over a new division with no funding behind him at all. And when Ichigo wrote off yet another potential problem by throwing money at it, Renji had to bring him up short.

"It's not gonna be that easy," he said taking a mouthful of sake out of the jug they'd 'borrowed' from Koniwa's stash.

"Why not?" Ichigo asked, glancing up from the list he was making, a frown creasing his brow. His brush paused on the page, ink spreading slowly out from it until Renji leaned over and nudged it clear. Ichigo grimaced and dabbed at the blot with his sleeve. "Offering bonuses for good behaviour'll help keep violence in the ranks to a minimum, we agreed."

There was nothing they could do about Kuna and Muguruma except make it as quick and clean as possible, but neither of them wanted anything to do with the sort of sadistic shit that normally went down during one of these things. In fact Ichigo had made something he called 'zero tolerance' a condition of joining Renji on the run at all. Renji had been a bit worried at first but it just meant you didn't put up with any shit all, so that was good. Except, the trouble was, that sort of thing came at a cost.

"We did," Renji replied after a moment, then added bluntly, "but I can't afford it, so we'll have to find another way." If they won, they'd decided to still offer the 9th the usual three options; re-signing with the division under new management, dismissal and the tanto; but they were going to throw in a fourth; incarceration and a week's grace to find somewhere else. Ichigo reckoned it'd work, and that they'd end up with a more stable unit in the end. Renji didn't know, but he didn't like the alternatives much either and so he was willing to give it a try. If they could.

"Money? That's your trouble?"

Quashing his irritation, Renji said, "The fines took everything I had. Not all of us have got access to millions."

"Yeah, exactly," Ichigo replied, "I do, so we're good. Funding's in place." He grinned. "I won't even you charge interest, much. Next problem?"

* * *

Renji was studying a map of 9th division's grounds when he heard Ichigo curse softly. He looked up to see him trying to shove the wooden end of a writing brush down the top of his glove. The same gloves he'd given Renji a hand job with earlier. Damn it, he'd forgotten about those. Renji added getting the release kidō to his mental list of things he had to see Byakuya about the next day, along with collecting their personal stuff and finding out exactly how Ichigo was supposed to access this huge pot of funds he had. Tomorrow was gonna be a barrel of laughs, Renji could just tell.

In the meantime, "You gonna be okay with 'em on for tonight?" He'd go wake Byakuya if he had to, but only as a last resort.

Ichigo rolled his eyes, "Yeah, Renji, I think I can cope with itchy hands for one night." A minute or two later though, he swore loudly and began digging the brush in harder. "Crap, that's really really itchy."

Renji took a drink from the jug and pushed it across the desk towards Ichigo, who looked askance at it. "I know ya don't like it, but it'll stop them itching."

"Really?" Ichigo looking sceptical, took a sniff and wrinkled his nose.

Renji grinned. "Sure. If ya drink enough, you won't be feeling anything at all."

His smile got even broader when Ichigo muttered, 'In that case, kanpai," and started drinking.

* * *

"Okay, first thing tomorrow, that cave system out in fifth district east, training," Renji said by way of wrapping things up. His eyes were heavy and he was feeling pleasantly buzzed from the alcohol.

"Nope, s'not gonna happen," Ichigo slurred in reply, his head resting on his arms. The desk was crowded with empty bowls, sake jugs and stacks of papers and maps. "Got 'pointments tomorrow. Fuck, need ta get some sleep."

"Appointments?" Renji frowned. Was this something he should have known about?

"Uhuh. Yuzu's at ten, and then... Crap, I better send 'nother message to Karin. She's gonna kill me."

Renji waved him back down when he started to rise. "Do it in the morning. We'll meet at lunchtime then." Half a day was better than nothing and Renji could use the time to set up proper quarters. Tonight they'd make do with the bedrolls already on the office floor.

"Na-ah," Ichigo said, landing back in his chair with a bit of thump. He was such a lightweight when it came to booze, it was funny. "Seein' Ichi Maru for lunch."

The name came out in two distinct parts and it took Renji a second to string them together again. "Ichimaru Gin?" he growled finally, happy buzz rapidly vanishing. "What the fuck you wanna see him for?"

Ichigo lifted his head, which had ended up cushioned on his arms again. "'Cause he was my dad's fukutaichō, an' I wanna know what he was like?"

And yeah, okay, it was difficult to fault that kind of curiosity. Fuck, if it'd been Renji's dad, he'd want to know too. He heaved a sigh and staggered to his feet. "Just don't trust him," he said, "Fucker's trickier than a den full o' foxes." He slipped a hand under Ichigo's arm and hauled. "Come on, strawberry, time for sleep."

* * *

Renji surprised himself by sleeping well that night. He'd expected to toss and turn, missing Byakuya, but whether it was Ichigo's presence or being in the middle of the 6th with division mates all round, he slept better than he had in weeks. He woke only twice, both times near dawn. The first time, he heard someone moving and opened his eyes to see Ichigo staring out of the window like he had been the night before. Now Renji realised what it was he was staring at; Sōkyoku Hill and 1st division. Or more probably the prison that lay deep below them.

He thought about saying something, offering some word of sympathy, except he didn't know what exactly he could say. It was pretty obvious from Ichigo's reaction at breakfast that morning that he thought his dad was innocent. Renji didn't know about that, it had been before his time. But Byakuya believed Isshin had done it and that had always been enough for Renji. Now? He was withholding judgement until he had more facts. He just wished Ichigo would do the same, or he was going to end up bringing more trouble down on them.

The next time Renji disturbed, it was because Ichigo had joined him on the sleeping mat. He was freezing and Renji wrapped him up in a warm hug before dropping off again to the sound of Ichigo's teeth chattering in his ear.

* * *

The following day, all their plans went tits up. Breakfast was being served when the general 'call to arms' alarm went up, followed by the qualifier which meant a major incident in the living world. Those were always attended by someone of lieutenant rank at least, and so Renji got organising squads and sorting duties, using the opportunity to guide Ichigo through the niceties of a task that would be his when they had a division of their own.

Halfway through the scramble, Byakuya appeared at the door, summoning Renji with a lift of his eyebrows. Renji shoved the rotas off onto Ichigo and hopped to it, following Byakuya down the hallway to the captain's office.

It had been less than twelve hours since he'd last seen Byakuya, but walking in the man's wake Renji found his eyes drawn to him, greedily devouring every movement, every detail, and inhaling deeply to catch that elusive hint of cherry scent. Sure he'd slept well, and sure he made plans with Ichigo, but seeing Byakuya, being here with him, if he asked right now, Renji knew he would return to him in a heartbeat. He almost sped up and asked, no begged, for Byakuya to take him back.

His feet faltered before he could make a complete ass of himself. What the hell was he doing? They had a deal. Renji could return once he'd finished training Ichigo and not before. He had to hold tight to that thought. "Self-discipline," he muttered under his breath as Byakuya entered the office. That was what he needed, and everyone knew how much Byakuya loved self-discipline.

"Kuchiki-taichō," he said, closing the door behind them and dipping a bow. When he stood straight he kept his eyes focused on the wall just to one side of Byakuya and tried not to breathe too deeply.

"Abarai-fukutaichō, I trust arrangements are proceeding well? "

At the sound of that calm refined rumble, Renji's resolve wavered. His gaze shifted briefly to Byakuya's face, and found Kuchiki-taichō looking back at him. Cool expressionless grey eyes and an impassive face. It was exactly what Renji needed to help him get past this. Relaxing, he stared straight ahead and said, "Pretty good, sir. No quarters yet, but we're set on the 9th, and have got a solid plan of attack worked out. I reckon it'll take about two weeks to put into action, so we should be out of your hair well before the wedding."

Silence. Renji's eyes drifted captain-ward again, and this time he found a small amount of bemusement. "Taichō?" he asked.

"Actually I was referring to our division's imminent deployment to the living world, however I'm glad to hear that all is going well in other areas as well."

"Right." Renji felt a flush crawling up his cheeks. Of course taichō hadn't been thinking about him and Ichigo. It was duty first, second and always for a Kuchiki. Renji should have remembered that. "We'll be ready to leave in about half an hour. It's a train crash, so nothing too drastic, and its better to let the rescue workers do their thing first. So long as we turn up before the hollows get too bored."

"Excellent. I presume my presence will not be required?" Kuchiki-taichō said.

"Not unless we get a menos turning up, sir," Renji replied, and tried to think of a way to bring up the other stuff that needed saying. If nothing else, he had to have the kidō for Ichigo's gloves or the kid was going to drive all of them insane with his scratching.

"If one does, I'm sure you and Ichigo can handle it between you," taichō said, adding with a small smile, "I hear such things are often required of those of captain rank."

He was teasing. It was awkward and clumsy, but it meant he wasn't mad. Everything was still okay between them. Renji puffed out a relieved breath and quipped back, "Only if Ichigo doesn't drop his zanpakutō. I know we're busy, taichō, but can you tell me the kidō-"

"For his gloves, yes," Kuchiki-taichō interjected. "I remembered first thing this morning. It is a simple matter, though I will have to include your reiatsu in the release and for that I will need clearance from the sōtaichō and Central 46. In the meantime, Ichigo will simply have to submit to my authority on this matter." He shot a sharp look at Renji. "Do you anticipate that being a problem?"

Renji shook his head with more confidence than he actually felt. "No, sir. He'll do as he's told or suffer the consequences." Which would mean having impossibly itchy hands and no sympathy from Renji.

"Hmm," taichō replied, eyes narrowing slightly as though he could read Renji's mind. Renji stared back impassively until taichō continued, "You say you have no permanent accommodations as yet?" When Renji shook his head, he frowned, "That is unfortunate. I had hoped to send your things over today. Please rectify the matter as quickly as possible." He was turning his attention to the documents on his desk. Renji knew he only had moments to get in the rest of what he needed to say before he was dismissed.

"Um, there is one other thing," he said quickly.

"Yes, lieutenant?"

"Ichigo needs to gain access to his funds, sir, and though he hasn't said anything yet, I'm pretty sure he's gonna want in on the rest of the clan stuff as well."

Kuchiki-taichō sighed heavily and sat down. "Yes, he probably will." He stared off into the distance and Renji got a sense of ideas being examined and discarded. Finally he blinked up at Renji and said, "Inform him that my lawyers will be available at his convenience. They will answer all his questions, provide any documentation he requires and offer recommendations for other potential advisers should he require them." He paused, eyes flicking to the door and back to Renji again. "Renji, don't let him go wild. The money may seem like a lot to the both of you, but for a noble house, it's a pittance, and without it the Shiba will stand no chance of regaining their former influence."

Renji nodded. "I'll bear that in mind, sir, though in the end it's gonna be up to Ichigo what he does with it."

"Indeed," Kuchiki-taichō said, turning back to his papers once again, his eyes scanning across the page. "In the final analysis, everything always seems to be up to Kurosaki Ichigo."

* * *

Several hours later, surrounded by the debris of a huge train crash, and feeling a bit run over himself, Renji was forcibly reminded of those words.

It all started with a return to the conversation from the night before...

"So, about finding people in the Rukongai," Ichigo said out of nowhere as they got on clearing the crash site of lingering souls.

Renji finished konso'ing the terrified couple he'd been dealing with, checked his immediate vicinity for any he might have missed, and said, "This about your pal, the bird lover?"

To his credit, Ichigo hardly bristled at all. "Sado, yeah." He kicked at the floor and then said, "You reckon there's any chance of finding him?"

About the same as a finding a needle in a giant haystack, but Renji wasn't the sort to crush someone without giving them a chance. "Reckon he had any spiritual power?" he asked instead as they began making their way through the twisted wreckage towards the rest of the squad. They were about done here. With luck they'd be home in time for lunch.

"I have no idea, but that'd make him a shinigami right? If he had?"

Renji gave Ichigo a cursory once over as he hopped out through the end of one carriage and through a gaping hole into the next. His friend died two years ago, Ichigo had said, which'd make him two years older than Karin, who was just about mature enough to be picked up by the clean-up squads if she was still in Rukongai. If this Chad had been small for his age he might... Damn. Who was he kidding.

"Yeah, maybe," he replied non-committally as he picked a route into the carriage through mangled metal and billowing smoke and flames. There was no point in letting Ichigo know his friend had probably been hauled out into the desert to have his throat cut. Mind you, if he was a fighter like Ichigo suggested there was another possibility. Not that he was about to tell Ichigo to go look for him in the fighting pits either.

"He probably didn't though. I mean, what'd be the chances of that?"

It all depended on how much spiritual energy Ichigo and his dad had been leaking at the time, Renji thought. At the point they'd been noticed by Soul Society, Ichigo was starting to attract hollows so he must have been having an effect on the people around him. Renji sighed heavily. He could tell him all this, but what was the point. It'd only upset the kid if he thought he might have been hurting people and it was way too late to change anything.

"Pretty damn small," he said instead, taking the easy out. "So you gonna try Rukongai?"

Instead of answering, Ichigo stopped and peered into the darkness. "Hello?" he called, "Is there anyone - oh hey, there you are." He crouched down as a small girl in a yellow dress, with her hair in pigtails and blood down one side of her face wandered out of the darkness, rubbing her eyes as if she'd only just woken up.

The chain on her chest... Damn. There was no chain on her chest.

"I can't wake mommy," she said, her chin quivering as she looked between him and Ichigo. Alive and yet could apparently see them, which meant she had spiritual energy. Double damn.

Ichigo held out his arms and the little one went to him without hesitation, burrowing into him and casting Renji suspicious looks. He stuck his tongue out at her and crossed his eyes, which made her smile and hide her face against Ichigo's chest. Maybe she was just badly injured and about to die. She'd be able to see them then.

"Ya wanna go check for... whatever," Ichigo said, gesturing back the way she'd come before starting to gently part her hair to find the injury. He really was a sap for kids.

"Yeah, okay," Renji said and left them to it, heading back into the darkness. He found the girl's mom almost immediately, her chest crushed by the seat in front of her. By the looks of the angles and the toys on the floor, the kid'd been playing by her mom's feet and had been protected during the collision. She'd probably been knocked out and so got missed by the rescue crews working the accident.

But the most interesting thing wasn't how the kid had survived, it was the dark mark visible all down her dead mom's arm. A hollow bite scar. An old one. Well, Renji thought, heart sinking, that'd explain the kid's spiritual energy all right. It also meant she had to have her soul chain severed.

Ichigo was gonna go apeshit when Renji did that, but it was the rule. Humans with her sort of spiritual pressure couldn't be allowed to live. They were dangerous. They attracted hollows into the living world and out of Hueco Mundo where they could be managed properly.

Resigned to what he had to do, Renji turned back towards Ichigo and the kid, drawing Zabimaru as he went.

Except, when he got back, they weren't there. For a moment Renji just stood on the spot, wondering if he'd somehow got turned around, but no, that was the way they'd come in and there was where Ichigo had stopped. He was definitely in the right place. So where were Ichigo and the kid?

"Excuse me... Abarai-fukutaichō?" a worried voice called from outside.

Renji hopped out through the gap to find squad fifteen waiting outside, all staring up the track to where the flashing lights of emergency vehicles were just visible. "Hey, Asai, you seen Kurosaki?"

"He went that way, sir," Asai, the strapping squad leader replied, his dark brows drawing down fiercely over his bright blue eyes. "He was carrying a child. Human... she was alive."

Fuck. He seriously needed to sit Ichigo down and have chat with him about things like subtlety and discretion, concepts which were apparently completely missing from his vocabulary. "Right," Renji said, and was about to send the squad packing when he suddenly remembered his lesson from last time. Get everyone in the same amount of shit, and that way they're weren't gonna start tattling on everyone else.

"And who tried to stop him?" he asked, fixing the lot of them with an accusatory look. "Come on, you all know protocol. No contact with humans, and if it can't be avoided, it must be kept to an absolute minimum."

They all looked at each other and then turned to Asai, who paled and said, "Erm..."

Renji shook his head sadly at them, all the while internally berating himself for being such a bastard. But it'd be better in the long run, it would. "Okay, well, never mind," he said. "Thanks for being test subjects, guys. I guess I am gonna have to make sure everyone gets re-drilled on this stuff. Since it was only a dry run, I'll not make your failure official." At their sighs of relief and murmured thanks, he drummed up a reluctant smile. "And hey, this way you get to cram before the pop quizzes start."

That was met by a few titters and a couple of nervous smiles. Renji was fairly sure they believed him, or at least enough not to spill the beans immediately. "Right," he said, changing the subject, "one last sweep. Start at the front of this carriage and work your way back down to the end of the damaged section of track. You know the routine."

They did, and set off with minimal muttered complaints. Renji watched until they were all out of sight before heading towards the flashing lights. There was only one vehicle, he realised as he drew closer, it was just lit up like a shrine at new year. And there was Ichigo, standing beside it with the little girl in his arms, talking - _talking!_ - to a human woman in a light blue top and dark trousers.

Renji was about to shunpo upwards so he could keep an eye on them and still avoid attracting attention, when Ichigo glanced over and called, "Renji! Hey, this is Mirano-san. I was just telling her about the cosplay thing we're doing."

Cosplay? Renji had no clue what the hell Ichigo was talking about. He sidled up to them, shocked all over again that Ichigo was just chatting to the woman, and that she didn't seem bothered either by his clothes or by Zangetsu strapped to his back. She smiled up at Renji a bit nervously before turning her attention back to the girl, who Renji now realised was letting the woman wash a nasty cut hidden by her hair. She was clinging to the front of Ichigo's shihakushō like it was the last thing on earth.

"So anyway, I guess we'd better get going," Ichigo said, his lips tightening.

Renji didn't know if it was something in his expression that made Ichigo suddenly say that, and really he didn't care. In theory he should kill the woman and the kid, but since trying that was likely to end up in full scale fight, his first priority was to get Ichigo away from here before anyone else saw them and find out what the fuck he thought he was doing.

Handing the little girl over to the woman, Ichigo continued over the top of plaintive whimpers, "You go with Mirano-san in the ambulance, it'll be fun. And I bet she'll have candy for you."

"Candy and a cute bunny," the woman said, taking the kid and shooting another smile at Ichigo. "You sure you don't want publicity? It was very brave of you to bring her out like that."

"No, thanks, I gotta..." Ichigo gestured towards Renji. "We're late already."

He was backing away as he spoke, and with last goodbyes, they were finally away. Renji waited until the woman was out of sight and earshot before grabbing Ichigo's arm and stepping into shunpo. "What the fucking hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded once they were safely the other side of the burnt out train.

Ichigo jerked his arm away and scowled back. "Making sure the kid was okay. I wasn't gonna go close but then Mirano came out and she could see me and I couldn't exactly walk off at that point, she'd just have been even more suspicious." He blushed. "So told her this lot was a cosplay, and she fell for it, which sucks 'cause I so do not look like an otaku!"

The kid was speaking in tongues. Renji stared at him. "Will you start making sense."

"I am," Ichigo snapped back. "It's not my fault you're two hundred years out of date!"

Byakuya's comments from earlier, _"In the final analysis, everything always seems to be up to Kurosaki Ichigo," _rang loud in Renji's ears as the kid stalked away, and as he watched, Renji found himself wondering what exactly his impulsive promise to Byakuya last night was going to cost him. In retrospect, it might have been a really big mistake.

* * *

Renji took one look at the lunch queue in the mess and decided not to bother. He had to pop over to the estate anyway to grab their stuff so he could scrounge up something to eat from the kitchens while he was there. But before he went, he needed to find quarters.

Billet allocation had always been handled by Koniwa. As third seat he got the crap jobs Renji didn't fancy and shuffling people around to keep them happy when all they did was whine about the outcome was not Renji's idea of a good time.

Unfortunately Koniwa wasn't in his office. Not that that was going to stop Renji. It hadn't stopped him last night either when he was after the sake. Which reminded him, he really ought to replace that. Borrowing was one thing; nicking a man's stash permanently was out of line.

Pouring over the charts and forms he liberated from Koniwa's desk, Renji began to wish he'd left some sake for today. As far as he could make out, there wasn't a spare bed in the division, and taking that to Byakuya was not going to go down well, he didn't think. They could keep kipping on the office floor, he supposed, but sooner or later someone else was going to move in there and then where would they be? Out under the stars, shivering in the cold, probably.

He squinted at the page and turned it sideways. Did that say storage? A double room with anti-chamber as a storeroom? That didn't sound very efficient. Rolling up the plan, he stood up and pushed the draw closed. Time to go and do a bit of fieldwork.

* * *

Apparently Byakuya's idea of 'things' covered everything up to and including bedding and a couple of items of furniture. Renji stood next to the pile of gear and sighed. No way was he carrying all that by himself. He was going to need help.

Not wanting to risk the main house, he wandered out into the gardens around the captain's quarters in the hopes of catching one of the gardener's boys. They were always up for a bit of extra work for a kan or two. Not that Renji had any to spare, but then Ichigo had said he'd foot the bill for the run so he might as well start now.

Renji was just rounding the corner of the little stone pagoda where the boys gathered to gossip and play dice, when he heard someone yelling, "You will tell me who you were with, you slut, or I will beat it out of you! Do you understand me!"

Damn it, Renji knew that voice. It was Fugawa-san, the son of one of the Kuchiki 'aunties' and a first class asshole who was always throwing his weight around with the servants. Well, not this time. Even if Fugawa complained, Renji'd be long gone before any retribution came down the line.

The realisation was one hell of high and kept him going as he stalked round the corner, catching Fugawa looming over Tamiko, the cook's assistant, with his fist raised. "I can't, sir!" Tamiko was crying, "I'm not allowed!"

Not stopping to hear any more, Renji took a quick half step of shunpo and had the guy's fist in his own before it could land. Fugawa cowered for a brief glorious second until he saw who it was, and then all his puffed up pomposity flooded back. Bring it on, Renji thought, sticking himself between Fugawa and the tearful Tamiko. I am so out of your damned league now, you can't even touch my shadow.

"What is the meaning of this?" Fugawa pronounced, tugging at the front of his haori. He should have worn a lighter colour. The dark purple showed his dandruff. "Remove yourself before I call the guards."

In the past, that might have worked. Not because the guards would have done anything but because it would have got back to Byakuya and that would have meant another round of lectures about respect and birthright. As if the two actually meant the same thing. "You can try," Renji replied, smirking. "But seeing as how they're under taichō's command, I don't reckon they're gonna lift a finger to shift me."

"Abarai-fukutaichō," Tamiko began, "You shouldn't have to-"

Renji waved a dismissive hand at her. He'd always had a soft-spot for Tamiko. And it wasn't just because she was pretty and flirted with him. She also made a mean takiyaki. "S'not a problem, honestly. Go round us up some lunch while I sort this out and we'll call it even."

Her gaze flicked nervously between Renji and Fugawa and then she aimed a deep bow somewhere in-between them and ran. "Now," Renji said, turning his attention back to Fugawa. "You want to settle this like men?"

"A man? You're nothing but a gaki whore grown too old for his master's bed," Fugawa shot back.

And okay so apparently him leaving the captain's quarters was already general knowledge this side of the estate. Not really a surprise Renji guessed, given the ruckus Ichigo caused last night. And then there was the pile of gear Byakuya had had packed up. Made the case pretty clear, even to someone who couldn't see the sword when it was pressed against his neck like Fugawa. Now there was an idea.

This time his shunpo was just a bit harder and faster. It caught Fugawa up and slammed him against the side of the pagoda, Renji's hand fisted in the front of his haori and shoving it right up under his chin. Tempting as it was to stick the guy, actually drawing his sword could get him arrested with Renji not actually being a captain yet and Fugawa still technically being a noble, so the fist would have to do.

Fugawa's eyes went almost round with fear as Renji snarled at him, "I might be a fucking whore, but in a couple of weeks that'll be 'captain-whore, sir,' so you'd better watch your step, you slimy piece of shit, or I'll come back here in the middle of the night and rip your balls off, got it?"

The terrified squeak made all the risk worthwhile. When Renji let him go, Fugawa fled, stumbling over his hakama as he went. Renji watched him, an odd euphoria swelling in his chest. Was it power? No, he'd felt power and this wasn't it. This was something else. This was freedom.


	10. and Monsters

By the time they got back, Ichigo had missed his appointment with Yuzu by a mile. All he could do was put his faith in Soul Society's crapped out communication system and hope the butterfly he sent earlier had got through. Why the hell they used the things was beyond him. The 12th could make video cameras and audio pick-ups that'd make James Bond cry, and yet when you wanted to just send someone a message, it was a hell butterfly or nothing. Yet another example of how the Gotei needed a hard kick up the ass.

And one day he'd do it too, Ichigo promised himself, as he trod swiftly down the corridor towards the captain's office, but not today. Right now he needed to get to the 3rd to see Ichimaru but, before he went, he had to do something about his hands. It hadn't been too bad this morning. He'd wet them down again, which had helped a bit, and then with the alarms and the train crash, he'd either been too busy to notice or there was something about the living world that made them itch less. Either way, now he was back and so was the itch. If he didn't get them fixed soon, he was going to go nuts.

He stopped outside Byakuya's door, took a deep calming breath, and knocked. Just a quick in and out. No need for it to end up in a fight. Or as Renji had put it, "Keep yer damn fool mouth shut, don't say anything to annoy the guy, and you'll be good."

"Enter."

Ichigo pushed the door back and stepped inside. Byakuya was sitting behind his desk, ink and brush to hand, papers in front of him, obviously deeply immersed in his work. All he needed was a pair of glasses perched on his nose and the image of the busy executive would be complete.

_He's like Ryūken. _

The stray thought trickled into Ichigo's mind, and his memory moved briefly to his uncle, and the cold mask he'd always shown the world. Only once had Ichigo seen that mask slip, after mom's funeral.

Ichigo, who'd ended up sharing a bed with his cousin, had woken up and crept downstairs to find his dad in floods of tears while Ryūken sat next to him on the couch, patting his shoulder and making quiet understanding noises. When he'd seen Ichigo in the doorway, Ryūken's expression had tightened, his gaze flicking to Isshin's hunched shoulders and then back to Ichigo again, and even at that age, Ichigo had known that his dad would hate his son seeing him that way.

He'd shaken his head to let his uncle know that he shouldn't worry and given him the brightest smile he could muster. The one he'd got in return made the sort of impression that Ichigo would never forget. Pride and affectionate approval that felt as warm and real as the hug Ichigo had been looking for. He had returned to bed feeling as secure and happy as a nine year old who'd just lost his mom could.

That moment, brief as it was, had changed his impression of Ryūken forever. Always afterwards he'd sought to look beneath the arrogance and the dismissive brush-offs, and seeing Byakuya sitting there, looking like a dark haired version of his uncle, made Ichigo wonder if maybe he hadn't tried hard enough to look beneath Byakuya's mask.

Even if that was true, it was too late now. The opportunity was gone.

After a moment or two, Byakuya glanced up and, seeing who it was, put the papers down. "You wish to have your gloves removed?" he asked, already reaching out.

Ichigo nodded, took the requisite number of steps forward to the desk and held out both arms. The sleeves of his shihakushō rode up, revealing the cross-ties of the gloves and, rather than look at Byakuya, Ichigo kept his eyes fixed on those, watching the way Byakuya's fingers pressed firmly against that final loop of silk.

Instead of casting the releasing kidō, Byakuya said, "Has Renji explained that you will need to see me for this procedure until he has clearance?"

Ichigo nodded again, eyes still down, and waited. Byakuya's fingers didn't move. Finally Ichigo looked up, to find that cool grey gaze levelled at him. He met it, unblinking, feigning more confidence than he actually felt.

"I would like an answer, Kurosaki-sanseki."

So it was going to be like that, was it? Ichigo bit back a rude comment and said, "Yes, Kuchiki-taichō, sir, I understand."

"Then you will report to me morning and evening. Since I assume you would prefer not to be locked in your room for the night, you will have to content yourself with sleeping in them for the time being. Once Renji is permitted to release the seal, you may spend the night in his company, ungloved."

Ichigo had forgotten that little detail. One of the conditions of his parole laid down by the sōtaichō was that he couldn't be left unaccompanied without the gloves on, presumably in case he went nuts and started attacking people or something. Considering some of the freaks he'd met since coming to Soul Society, Ichigo thought it really unfair that he was being singled out this way. But he wasn't in a position to argue, so Renji'd better get used to sex with gloves on.

One side of his mouth lifted. Somehow he didn't think Renji was going to complain.

"You find some part of this amusing, Kurosaki?"

It was so much like something his headmaster would have said that Ichigo was sassing back before he remembered who he was speaking to. "Just thinking that Renji'll probably send you a thank-you card, sir."

"Ah, yes, he does have his predilections," Byakuya replied and before Ichigo could say something exceedingly rude, kidō pulsed through the leather and silk and the gloves unwound from Ichigo's hands, dropping to the floor with twin thumps. As the fresh air hit, the skin on Ichigo's hands reacted like he'd just stuck them into an ants' nest. They stung and burned and itched like crazy and all Ichigo could do was hunch over and scratch and scratch and scratch until he thought his skin was going to peel right off.

"Let me see," Byakuya said a second later – or it could have been minutes, Ichigo couldn't tell for certain. Cool fingers wrapped around one wrist and tugged his hands apart, revealing reddened skin covered in seeping blisters.

"Ow," Ichigo said, staring at them. What the hell? He'd never had a reaction like that to anything, ever.

"Indeed," came the dry response. A chair pressed against the back of his knees and Ichigo sank gratefully onto it. "Wait here and try not to scratch."

Ichigo pressed his palms to his legs and did his best to obey. By the time Byakuya returned, he was chewing his lip and staring at his hands trying to convince himself that, despite how it felt, there really weren't insects crawling all over them.

The clunk of china was followed by the splash of water and then Byakuya lifted one of Ichigo's hands and began bathing it. Whatever was in the water had an immediate effect. It stung like a fucker.

"Atata!" Ichigo complained, earning himself an unsympathetic look. He shut up and suffered in silence, making do with glowering at Byakuya when he swapped one hand for the other and repeated the process. Then he picked up something else. A crockery jar with a wax sealed lid. The smell when Byakuya cracked the seal was... smooth, was only way Ichigo could think to describe it, cool, and not unpleasant at all.

"When I was a child," Byakuya said, dipping his fingers into the stuff and picking up the first hand of Ichigo's that he'd treated, "I had a tendency to train a little too hard. My skin had not yet toughened enough to avoid damage and so I would end up with blisters. My uncle's remedy was to use an astringent, much like the one I used to wash your hands. Your father used this."

He spread a thin layer of the pale green gloopy stuff onto Ichigo's palm and the itchy-burn faded immediately. It was like magic, but better. Ichigo sagged and held out the other hand, gratefully accepting the generous dollop that Byakuya deposited on it. As Ichigo began working it in, Byakuya warned, "Do not rub too hard," standing as he spoke, and putting the lid back on the jar. "Also I advise that you stay in the office with me this afternoon. That way you may remain ungloved and allow your skin time to heal properly."

Ichigo hesitated for a moment before answering. He really hadn't wanted to tell Byakuya that he was going to see Ichimaru, but on the other hand, he couldn't just leave without an explanation. Especially not when the guy seemed to actually be making an effort. He'd spoken about Ichigo's dad, and not in a bad way. That sort of thing should be rewarded, right?

"I can't," he said, hesitating for a second before going for it, "I have an appointment at the 3rd. With Ichimaru-taichō."

Byakuya froze for a moment, his back to Ichigo, and when he spoke his voice was cool and distant once again. "I see. In that case, I recommend you do not attempt to manifest or use any undue amount of reiryoku. The superficial irritation does no real harm, however the blisters are the result of your body attempting to access reishi through the silk. They are a mild form of the damage you inflicted on Ise-fukutaichō, and thus will not respond favourably to kidō based healing."

"Right," Ichigo replied, his mind whirling at this new information. The damage to his hands was the same as that? No wonder Kyōraku had been so mad, especially if healing kidō didn't fix it. And it wasn't just Ise either. Was that how Byakuya knew the cream worked? Had he used it on his own hands after Ichigo had hurt him?

And why had he used it on Ichigo now? After what Ichigo had said to him last night, it didn't make sense. None of it made sense.

"You're not gonna order me not to go?" he asked, not able to think of a way to bring up the other stuff.

Byakuya placed the jar on a shelf and turned to look at him. "Would you obey if I did?" Ichigo dropped his gaze, unable to answer in a way that wouldn't get him into trouble. "As I thought," Byakuya continued, and then seemed to change tack. "I assume you will be taking Matsumoto with you so she may visit with her friend?"

"Yeah, I... I guess." To be honest Ichigo had kind of forgotten about Matsumoto. With last night and then today, and now Ichimaru... Damn, he had to check and see how the other guys from the 10th were doing too. He moved his schedule around in his mind, trying to fit Renji in during daylight hours, and failed.

"You have made a commitment to them, Ichigo. They are now your responsibility. You cannot drop them simply because they have become inconvenient. Their grace period expires by sundown tomorrow."

"I know!" Ichigo snapped, glaring at Byakuya, who was staring at him with that annoying impassive expression that Ichigo just knew was his equivalent of sticking his tongue out. "I'll manage, I just need to... " Clone himself. Could they do that in Soul Society?

Byakuya retook his seat on the other side of the desk. "You should recruit some help. Your sister perhaps."

"Karin's back?" Ichigo blurted.

"She is, and off duty for the next forty eight hours. I suggest you take advantage of that fact and put an end to this ridiculousness. I have had quite enough of my division being turned into a circus for your amusement, Kurosaki."

And they were back to asshole-taichō. Fucking great. Though Byakuya'd had a good point about finding someone to help. Not Karin though. Ichigo didn't want to involve her in anything that might get her into trouble.

He looked at Byakuya, who had his nose buried in his papers again, though only the top one, Ichigo noted. He hadn't actually turned the page yet, which suggested he was expecting Ichigo to say something. Well, here went nothing.

"Bya-" he began and then thought better of it. "Taichō, do you know how I can contact Ganju?"

Byakuya's head snapped up, and he frowned. That had surprised him, Ichigo thought with a moment's wonder.

"Your cousin? Why?" Byakuya asked, forehead smoothing as he got his reaction under control.

Ichigo was tempted to say, 'clan business', but if he wanted an actual answer, he'd be better off explaining properly. He did let himself have a bit of a dig though. "For starters because he is my cousin and I have no idea how to get in touch with any of my family without going through you first," he said and then added, "And I thought he could help with the guys from the 10th since he has civilian contacts and they're probably gonna be better off looking there than trying to get a place in another division."

Byakuya's expression turned from vaguely annoyed to very slightly surprised. "That actually shows a distinct level of thoughtfulness," he said, as though Ichigo was incapable of thinking at all. "Though I fear you'll be somewhat disappointed. Your cousin is not the type to take responsibility seriously."

"I think that's for me to decide, don't you," Ichigo snapped back, feeling insulted on Ganju's behalf. For fuck's sake, Byakuya had half killed him, couldn't he find something nice to say about the guy after doing that?

"Perhaps," Byakuya replied, and then paused, thinking the idea through maybe. "Yes, perhaps it should be your decision," he continued eventually. "In that case, you will no doubt find him in the general vicinity of the Pits. I understand he has a passion for boar fighting." He picked up his brush and signed the bottom of the document he was reading, somehow managing to do it smugly.

Ichigo swallowed as the implications of Byakuya's words sank in. He'd heard of the Pits, and knew they were a popular form of entertainment in Seireitei, but he'd never visited himself. He'd never wanted to. Sparring with friends for fun was one thing, or fighting because you had to against a hollow. But shoving someone into an arena to fight for other people's entertainment just struck Ichigo as sick. He guessed he should be thankful that at least his cousin was only watching animals do it and not people.

"Right," he said. "I guess I'd better go then." He was halfway to the door when Byakuya said simply, "Gloves." Ichigo turned back with a sigh. Damn it, he was sick to death of those fucking things already.

* * *

In the five minutes he had free while Rangiku was getting ready, Ichigo scrawled a quick message to Karin promising to see her that evening, and then decided to pop his head into the room next door to see how the other refugees from the 10th were getting on. Having not really had much of a chance to speak to any of them, he wasn't sure what to expect as he slid the door back.

"Hey... guys?" His greeting morphed into a confused question when he realised that two of them were huddled together in one corner, shooting looks at the third, who was sat perched on his rolled up futon about three feet away, holding a folded sheet of paper and looking as though someone had just handed him a death sentence. Fuck, Ichigo thought, maybe they had. "Everything okay?" he asked, quickly closing the door behind him. The room was tiny, cramped, and smelt of stale sweat and pickled fish. He tried not to breathe too deeply.

When they spotted who it was, the two – one big with short dark hair, the other small and mousy – leapt to their feet and bowed low. "Good afternoon, Shiba-sa-" the dark one began, only to get an elbow in the ribs from his friend. "Kurosaki-sanseki," Mousy finished for him.

Ichigo sighed internally. Great, word of his real identity had even got as far as these guys. Sooner or later they were just going to have to give up the whole charade. It was getting dumb to keep pretending it was any sort of secret any more.

"So, anything to report?" he asked, only thinking afterwards that the question might be a bit unsubtle. Well, screw it. He was a Kurosaki. They didn't do subtle. Plus he only had a limited amount of time.

"Yeah," Mousy said. Apparently he'd appointed himself spokesman for the group. He smirked, jerking a thumb at the guy on the bed. "You should congratulate Yuiragi, sir. He's getting married."

"Oh, right." That went some way towards explaining the odd atmosphere. Ichigo turned to Yuiragi and nodded a bow. "Congratulations. I hope you'll both be really happy."

The reaction wasn't what Ichigo'd expected. Mousy guffawed with laughter, and the bridegroom turned on him, snapping, "Fuck off, Shin," When the dark-haired guy started sniggering, Yuiragi glowered at him as well and added, "You too, Fūra. You had your freaking chance, so zip it!"

"Okay, I'm guessing it's not congratulations, then?" Ichigo said, looking from one to the other. For guys who'd be out on the street by the end of tomorrow, and inside the 12th an hour after that, they didn't look too worried.

"She's a hag," Yuiragi sighed, hands dropping to his lap. "A sullen old hag with enough money to make folks forget I was ever a shinigami."

Which would be why he was marrying her. It sucked, but at least Yuiragi'd be alive. "What about the rest of you?" Ichigo asked.

"I ain't that fucking desperate," Fūra said with a shrug. "Iba'll come through. He might be a dick, but he's family."

"I dunno, man. That butterfly's not come back yet." Shin looked too smug about that. Ichigo made a point to remember to check the location of the three butterflies he'd issued to these guys. "I reckon Nee-san's washed her hands of you," Shin finished.

Fūra looked ready to punch Shin on the nose, a bit of a turn around from the way the three had been aligned when Ichigo came in. Then again, being stuck in this airless room with only each other for company, totally reliant on outsiders for everything – yeah, it wasn't surprising they were getting tetchy. Maybe he could organise some exercise, a sparring session, give them a chance to let off some steam.

Right now though, he had to go.

"I'll check. Shin, are you expecting anything?"

A one shouldered shrug and a shifty look. And there was the other explanation as to why Shin was picking on the other two. If he thought they were leaving him behind, it made sense for him to lash out. Ichigo didn't understand the attitude himself, but he'd seen it played out enough times in school to know it happened.

He resisted the urge to pat the guy on the back and just nodded to him instead. "Let me know if there's anything else I can do. I'm seeing some people later. Maybe one of them'll be able to help."

Shin shrugged again, turning his back to Ichigo, his straggly mousy hair falling forwards over his face, and that wasn't good. The guy was giving up hope. Well, screw Byakuya, Ichigo thought. If he couldn't find something for Shin by tomorrow evening, he'd take the guy himself. Even if it did mean making the Shiba a freaking laughing stock throughout Seireitei. He'd rather be laughed at for doing the right thing, than earn respect by letting a man die.

* * *

Hinamori was waiting for them when they arrived at the 3rd, standing in the entranceway flanked by two members of her own division. After a round of polite greetings, she passed Rangiku off to the others and escorted Ichigo towards the captain's office herself, along with the half of the escort that stayed with him. He was glad of the company. From their previous visit, he remembered that the 3rd was cold, dark, and kind of dank, with a horror movie vibe made worse by the hoods all the division's shinigami wore. It made them look like mad monks and Ichigo found his fingers twitching for Zangetsu every time one of them scurried past.

Why the hell did they even wear them? None of the other divisions did, although the 9th wore sleeveless kosode. Was it a fashion thing or was there more to it than that? One of these days he'd work up the nerve to ask one of them, but not today. If it turned out to be some kind of taboo no one had told him about, his chances of getting the answers he wanted from Ichimaru would take a major hit. He was already going to be on dodgy ground, probably, unless Hinamori could help him.

As he followed along behind her, Ichigo took the chance to study the diminutive fukutaichō. Unlike the rest of the 3rd, she wore her hood down, gathered around her neck like a scarf, leaving her face visible. She hardly looked older than Yuzu yet she remembered his dad and was lieutenant of a Gotei 13 division. Honestly, sometimes it was like Soul Society went out of its way to fuck with his head, just waiting for him to screw up. But that aside, would she help him?

"Can I ask you something, Hinamori-fukutaichō?" he finally ventured into the silence as they set off along yet another dim corridor.

She glanced back at him, the tips of her dark hair catching on the cloth of her hood as she turned. Her eyes looked huge and dark, almost bruised. "You may, Kurosaki-sanseki." Last time he'd seen her, she'd ended up being really friendly. Today though, she sounded lifeless, like someone had drained the energy from her.

"I erm... " Ichigo swallowed nervously. He didn't want to make things difficult for her. "I need some information from your captain and I... " He paused, thinking how best to put this and settled for, "I don't want to annoy the guy so much that he just throws me out." It was rude, but it put the point across.

Perhaps too well. Ichigo winced and looked away as Hinamori stumbled clumsily over her own two feet. "You're... you're worried about upsetting Ichimaru-taichō?" she asked, her tone suddenly full of expression. Her face when he turned back was genuinely surprised, and maybe a tiny bit pleased.

"I guess," Ichigo said. "I mean, I know there's gonna be stuff that's not nice, what with bringing up dad and Bya- Kuchiki-taichō and everything. But if there's things I can avoid..."

Her face fell. Had he said something wrong? "I'm sorry, Kurosaki-sanseki," she said, "but I don't think what you want will be possible. Ichimaru-taichō is... " She hesitated as though searching for the right words, "_singular_ in his reactions to things, and really anything I say will just give you a false impression.

Reading between the lines, that meant her captain was as unpredictable as fuck, which was what Renji had said, but this was his own lieutenant saying it. Ichigo was starting to wonder what the hell he was getting into. He'd find out soon enough, he guessed, as they stopped outside a door that had a sign saying 'Taichō' in ornate calligraphy with a sliding 'in/out' indicator beneath it. Currently it said, 'in'. Hinamori knocked and second later, a cheery, "Enter!" came from inside.

He'd expected Hinamori to go in with him, so Ichigo was a bit surprised when instead she turned to him, shot him a wide cheeky grin and chirruped, "Good luck, Kurosaki-san," before scurrying off down the corridor. He watched her leave, boggling at her odd behaviour – seriously, this place just fucked with him for fun – and then pushed the door open.

The room beyond was a hell of a lot brighter than Ichigo had expected given the rest of the building. For a second he couldn't see a thing beyond the glare of the sunlight streaming in through the window. And then a swirl of movement caught his eye. From the far corner a figure appeared, looming out of the light, all long lines and angles, skeletal and inhuman. Ichigo took a step back, wondering what the fuck was coming for him, before the shape resolved into nothing more threatening than a man. Tall, yeah, and still skinny, but definitely human, and wearing a captain's haori.

At least, Ichigo thought he was human, until he got a closer look at Ichimaru's face. That foxy smile, those slitted eyes, even the way the guy moved, with a swishing strut that somehow managed to look like some kind of hunting animal stalking its prey. The whole package just screamed alien. And Ichigo found himself thinking, _this_ had been his dad's fukutaichō? What the hell had his dad been thinking?

With a minute shudder Ichigo decided he was glad they'd never met before now. The guy was as creepy as fuck.

Having said that, Ichimaru being a freak show didn't change the fact that Ichigo was here for a favour and if there was one thing Byakuya had managed to drum into Ichigo's head, it was that a few manners went a long way in Soul Society. He closed the door behind him, dropped into a respectful bow and said, "Thank you for agreeing to see me, Ichimaru-taichō."

"My, my, ain't cha the polite one. Ya sure not like your father."

Ichigo froze, totally thrown. Not by the sing-song tone but by the blasé way Ichimaru had mentioned his old captain. When he'd first decided to try this, Ichigo had thought he might have to tiptoe around the subject a bit, butter the guy up some before fixing him with the hard questions. Not so much apparently. If that opening gambit was anything to go by, Ichimaru wasn't the type to give a damn what was said or how. And that was something Ichigo could work with.

He stood up to find the captain slouched lazily behind his desk, legs crossed and foot bobbing, his smile even wider and smugger than before. The fucker was enjoying his discomfort, Ichigo realised. He was trying to rub him up the wrong way and make him react. Probably trying to get him to defend his dad. Well, the best way to deal with that was not to give Ichimaru what he wanted.

Willing away everything but his frustration at this whole stupid shitstorm, Ichigo snapped, "I wouldn't know. The man I knew never existed. My real dad's a lying bastard of a shingami who let his kids get murdered rather than tell them the truth." And yeah, there was enough lingering bitterness there to give the words some bite.

"So you've not been ta see him then?"

And a hell of a lot of guilt as well. Ichigo flinched before he could stop himself. "I didn't think I could," he said, hearing the confusion in his own voice. Despite his best efforts, it made him sound young and scared, and for a brief moment Ichigo hated Ichimaru for doing that to him.

"Ya can't." The reply came back, quick as a knife and just as sharp. "But I wouldn't have thought that woulda stopped ya trying. A good boy like you should be movin' heaven and earth ta see his da go free. An' ya are a good boy, ain't cha, Ichigo-kun."

That was an even lower blow. Not a day went past that Ichigo didn't feel bad for not battering down the doors of the prison to let his dad out. But by the same token, it'd also given him time to think about it rationally.

Three years ago, he might have tried exactly what Ichimaru just suggested; taken on all of Soul Society and hang the consequences. Six months ago, even, Ichigo would have been desperate to do something. But nothing was ever that simple. Any move he made now had to be weighed against his responsibilities towards Karin and Yuzu. And any decisions he made had to put their safety first. When he didn't, things went wrong, and fast, as he'd proven at the arena when he'd lost Yuzu thanks to his own stupidity. At least he'd only lost her to the 4th. She was safe with Unohana-taichō, or as safe as anywhere in Seireitei could be.

Which wasn't to say Ichigo had given up on rescuing his dad completely, he just wasn't prepared to try without having a decent plan first. Anything half-assed that didn't include somewhere safe to run to and allies to fight with them was going to crash and burn the second they broke down the doors of the prison block.

But mainly what Ichigo had wanted before he made any moves at all, was some idea as to what the hell had happened to get his dad locked up in the first place. Now he knew more, but still not enough. Much as he didn't believe his dad was a murderer, Byakuya certainly thought he was, and Ichigo couldn't help thinking of that old saw about there being no smoke without fire.

Thoughts still a whirling mess, Ichigo managed to drag himself back on track past Ichimaru's taunting, and force out, "If you feel like that then you're probably not gonna answer me, but there's some things I want to ask you, about that night."

The fingers resting against the desk began tapping, 1-2-3, 1-2-3. Then, after what felt like a lifetime, Ichimaru cocked his head slightly and said, "Did Bya-kun send ya?"

Bya-kun? Where the hell did he get off calling Byakuya something that personal? Though, yeah, actually that could make sense. If Byakuya had been Isshin's apprentice when Ichimaru was his fukutaichō, they'd have known each other pretty well. "No," Ichigo replied. "I don't think Kuchiki-taichō wanted me to come at all."

The foxy smile dimmed a little and the tapping stopped. Instead long fingers absently traced shapes on the desktop. "Always was the selfish one with his toys. He never did want ta share, ya know." And though the words said toys, Ichigo got the impression that the resentment at sharing had gone a hell of a lot deeper than that. So not friends then? No, that didn't sound right. Beloved enemies, maybe. It wasn't like you couldn't be friends and deadly rivals with the same person. Look at him and Uryū, always at each other's throats. Or had been. Before.

So had Ichimaru and Byakuya grown up together? Been kids together? It'd definitely explain the kun, and Byakuya said that the 3rd took in the talented children. Was Ichimaru one of them? Damn, Ichigo thought, no wonder Byakuya was so upset when Ichimaru tried to kill him.

"You knew each other as kids?" Ichigo blurted before he had a chance to stop himself.

Ichimaru slit his eyes open, revealing slivers of shocking blue. "Ya don't know?" he asked, and seemed genuinely surprised. "Ya father never said anything about us?"

That again. Kyōraku had asked the same thing. Why did everyone always assume Isshin had told them? Ichigo dropped his gaze to the side and swallowed heavily. "Dad didn't tell us anything about anything. The first I knew about Soul Society was the night Byakuya turned up and killed us." And damn it, that still hurt. Sure there'd been reasons, but it had been his life damn it, his future, and he'd had it stolen out from under from him without even so much as an apology. And it'd been worse for Karin and Yuzu. They'd been kids, just starting high school, only to suddenly get catapulted into this strange new world where they were treated like adults, and expected to behave that way too. If Isshin had told them, if they'd known, been able to prepare, would it have been different?

The sound of disapproving tutting brought Ichigo's attention back to Ichimaru. The smile was completely gone now and Ichigo got an impression of regret, maybe a little sadness. Ichimaru shook his head and sighed, murmuring under his breath, "Why'd ya go do that, taichō? Din't the boy deserve ta know where he came from?"

It was a sentiment Ichigo shared and if things continued this way, he thought he might be able to warm to the odd captain, despite their rocky start. "I think he was trying to protect us," Ichigo offered in his dad's defence, and as a comfort to Ichimaru, maybe?

"Then he shouldn't've had ya at all," came the snap back. "Swanning around out there with some still living hussy, having kids and leaving us ta pick up the pieces, fix things up best way we could, all higgledy-piggledy and sideways. Din't even leave a message, did ya. Din't call, din't write..." The words trailed off into silence and Ichigo was starting to suffer some serious emotional whiplash here. Okay Hinamori had warned him, in her own way, but Ichigo hadn't expected it to be quite this bad. Ichimaru's reactions were all over the place. Though at least she'd tried to tell him. No-one else had said anything, and it left Ichigo wondering why. It wasn't like being mentally unstable was an issue for a captain; everyone knew about Ukitake-taichō.

A moment later Ichimaru let loose an odd barking cough, that could have been either a laugh or the beginnings of pneumonia, and a second after that, the fake smile was back. The captain turned in his chair, propped his elbows on the desktop and fixed Ichigo with focused, laser-like attention over the top of steepled fingers. "So what was it ya wanted ta know, Kurosaki-kun?"

"Ah..." Ichigo stalled, wondering if it wouldn't be safer to just do a runner at this point. But no, then he'd be right back where he had been, with no answers and no one to turn to except Byakuya. Although Byakuya's control freakishness was looking more and more normal compared to Ichimaru's whack-a-mole act.

When Ichigo didn't immediately leap in with a question, Ichimaru answered anyway. "Ya said ya wanted to know about that night, so what ya really asking is, did he kill 'em or not?"

"Did he?" Ichigo shot straight back, because that wasn't an opportunity he was going to let walk past without exploiting.

"An' if I tell ya, 'yes', ya gonna be like the rest of 'em and write him off as a murderer?" Ichimaru asked, and Ichigo got the sense that his loyalties were being examined here. The trouble was, not knowing where Ichimaru's sympathies lay, Ichigo couldn't chose the right answer to get the information he needed. All he could do was be honest and hope that was enough to bring Ichimaru round to confide in him.

"No," Ichigo said, because even if his dad had killed all those Kuchiki's, he had to have done it for a reason. Despite everything – the secrecy, the lies – Ichigo didn't believe his dad would kill people that he respected in cold blood. That was the act of someone who was either mad or evil, and Kurosaki Isshin was neither. "So, did he?" Ichigo asked again, holding his breath for the answer.

There was a pause, ominous, Ichigo thought but didn't say anything, then the smile widened and Ichimaru placed his hands flat on the desk top, fingers spread wide. "Afraid I jus' can't say. Ya see, like I told the judges at the time, I weren't there that night. Just at the estate, doing me paperwork like a good lieutenant should be."

"But-" Ichigo began, only for a knock to come at the door and for it to open, revealing Hinamori on the other side; her head down, eyes lowered.

"You're needed, Ichimaru-taichō."

Ichimaru stood in obvious dismissal. "Looks like ya time's up, Kurosaki-kun. Been nice meeting ya. If ya think of anything else ya want to know... Well, there ain't nothing, so don't go worryin' at it."

Shooting glances between Ichimaru and the waiting Hinamori, Ichigo tried for one more answer. "If you don't know anything more than you told the judges, how come your fukutaichō thinks my dad's innocent?"

Under other circumstances, Ichigo might have felt bad for the shocked gasp that came from the doorway. But since he was looking at Ichimaru, he had the satisfaction of seeing what he suspected was the first genuine expression on that face instead. The corners of the unrelenting smile turned down, the lips tightened, and Ichimaru hissed his displeasure, moving fluidly around the desk, his right hand heading towards the wakizashi at his waist.

Ichigo stepped back, half convinced he'd pushed the captain too far and getting ready to draw Zangetsu. But it never happened. At the last minute, Ichimaru raised his hand, bringing it down to grip Ichigo's right shoulder instead, his bony fingertips digging into muscle and tendon with surgical precision. Ichigo's arm went numb almost immediately and he had to brace his knees against the unforgiving downward pressure. Then cool, sweet smelling breath gusted over his cheek as the captain leaned down and murmured in his ear, "Lemme ask ya somethin', Ichigo-kun, and I want ya ta think real careful about this. When ya met up with Aizen Sōsuke, did he have his zanpakutō on 'im?"

And with a final, hard painful squeeze, Ichimaru stalked away.

Ichigo stared after him, mouth gaping. He knew he was doing it but he could no more have stopped himself than he could have halted the thoughts and emotions flooding through his brain. What the hell was Ichimaru trying to say? Of course Aizen couldn't have had his zanpakutō, the thing was under lock, key and twenty-four hour guard.

But why say something like that if it was impossible? And if it was possible...

The exact details of his encounter with Aizen near the shrine were still mostly fuzzy. Ichigo hadn't pushed himself to remember, hadn't wanted to, really. Now though, he did, closing his eyes and forcing his mind back, de-constructing the scene, piece by painful piece.

He remembered parts of it, like snapshots. Turning and seeing the guy for the first time, and thinking he was hot. Wondering how he'd react if Ichigo asked him out. And the expression on his face when he'd sensed the searchers and come at Ichigo with intent. That was the bit Ichigo needed. That moment, or the one just before it.

The image formed in his mind as slowly as thawing ice. Aizen, eyes narrowing, right hand rising to cast the kidō. And his left... Had there been a sword? Had his left hand been on the hilt of his zanpakutō?

Ichigo's eyes flew open.

Green wrappings. He remembered green hilt wrappings!

Damn it, Ichimaru was right; Aizen had been carrying his zanpakutō!

But that was supposed to be impossible. It was supposed to be under guard unless they were at war. And yet if he was carrying it, if he'd used it to put Isshin under his 'complete hypnosis', it would explain everything. The fact that the Kuchiki and Kyōraku massacres were so much alike. And the reason his dad had fled.

Shit, no wonder the old man had never spoken about Soul Society. If the same thing had happened to him as had happened to Kyōraku's brother, he would have been gutted when he realised what he'd done. And no one would have believed him, because Aizen's zanpakutō was supposedly locked away.

He had to tell Byakuya. Let him know that after all these years, he could finally stop blaming Isshin for his family's deaths.

The trip back to the 6th took no time. Hisana was sitting in her usual place and Ichigo caught a glimpse of her starting to move as he shunpo'd past, heading for Byakuya's office.

Her voice followed him. "The captain's busy. You can't-. Kurosaki-sanseki, please, you can't go in there!"

Ignoring the yells and crashing of furniture from behind him, Ichigo took the stairs three at a time, his heart pounding in his chest. All the way back he hadn't been able to think of anything except getting Byakuya to listen. If Byakuya believed him then everyone else would have to as well, then they'd have no choice but to clear his dad, let him out of jail, and Ichigo... Ichigo would finally have managed to protect someone important to him.

He was shouting an explanation even before he reached the door. "Byakuya! I've got it! It was that fucker Aizen! The bastard put the whammy on dad!" The door flew open under his thrusting palm and with a final, "Byakuya? Byakuya!" he barged into a room that had way more people in it than he was expecting. He stopped, shocked, and stared at the meeting he'd crashed in on.

The sōtaichō dominated the room from his place by Byakuya's desk, gnarled hands gripping the top of his equally gnarled staff, his eyebrows wagging as they drew together in a deeply disapproving frown. Beside him, and the only one seated, was Kyōraku-taichō, who raised his head when Ichigo entered, his expression dark and haunted. The little negator stood next him, unmistakable in that pink trimmed shihakushō. And finally Byakuya, over by the bookcases. Ichigo sought Byakuya's eyes desperately, and failed to make contact. They were downcast, his face angled away as if disowning Ichigo and everything he stood for. Well fuck him, Ichigo thought. Even if Byakuya wouldn't listen, maybe these others would.

But before he could say a word, the sōtaichō snapped, "Idiot boy! You think that wasn't the first place we'd look? Given the similarities between the two cases, of course it was. I carried out the interrogation myself and it was deemed impossible for the man to have done it."

"But-!" Ichigo began, because they had to be wrong. They had to be. It all fit. And it meant his dad was innocent.

"Who's been putting these foolish ideas into your head, anyway?"

"I believe Kurosaki was visiting at the 3rd, sir, with Ichimaru-taichō," Byakuya said in a voice so bland it could have passed for disinterested. Ichigo knew better and glared at him, feeling more than betrayed. This wasn't personal, wasn't about taking sides.

The sōtaichō harrumphed. "I might have guessed. Isshin coddled the boy, gave him far too many privileges considering his age and background." He fixed Ichigo with a narrow-eyed glare. "And what did he say to you, eh? That Sousuke has his zanpakutō? Scaremongering fool, I should bring him up on charges. Treason should do it this time."

Could they, just for that? "No, he didn't say..." It came out as a panicked croak. Ichigo stopped, cleared his throat, and tried again. "Sir, it wasn't like that. He just asked me if I'd noticed whether he was carrying it when we met." Ichimaru might not be the friendliest, or sanest, guy Ichigo had met, but there was no way he was going to dump him with a charge of treason.

Another harrumph, this one accompanied by the sharp tap of his staff on the floor. "Like I said then, putting ideas in your head."

"But I remember seeing it!" Ichigo protested, only for Kyōraku to say, "Hanatarō here told us the memory kidō was still in place. Are you saying it's worn off?"

"N-not exactly." The stammer made him sound dumb, but he couldn't help it. After their last encounter Ichigo felt entitled to be a bit nervous of the guy and his twin zanpakutō. This time Kyōraku looked less likely start imminently stabbing. Did that mean the alliance was fixed? Was that why he was here? It didn't matter, Ichigo decided. Even if this fucked things up again, he had to take this chance to clear his dad's name. "I can remember bits of it," he argued, "and I'm sure I remember him having a zanpakutō."

Kyōraku tipped his head back and closed his eyes. "Describe it to me, please."

"Ah, green hilt wrappings, those I know for sure I saw," Ichigo said, racking his brain for anything else that might help prove his case. "The guard's a hexagon, a prism shaped one, a kind of brassy-gold colour. The scabbard..." This was more difficult. Ichigo forced himself to remember. "I think it was light brown, with... with black ties?"

A heavy, tired sigh came from Kyōraku. "I think I'll stop you there," he said, lowering his head to look at Ichigo. "The brown scabbard is the one Aizen used many years ago. His current choice is black. I presume you showed him photographs?"

This last was aimed at Byakuya, who nodded. "Indeed, one of which showed Kyōka Suigetsu in the old scabbard."

Kyōraku turned back to Ichigo. "Your memory is playing tricks on you, Kurosaki-kun, as is Ichimaru. Aizen was in Hueco Mundo when Isshin murdered the Kuchiki. I know this because at the time both Hirako and I were there with him."

"In Hueco Mundo?" The situation was slipping through his fingers, Ichigo could feel it. In desperation he demanded, "How can you know for sure? You've been exposed to his shikai, he might have put the whammy on you too!"

"That is quite enough, Kurosaki!" Byakuya snapped. "You will apologise immediately!"

Kyōraku lifted his hand, "It's okay, it's okay. Let the boy ask, Byakuya, he has the right. This is his father's freedom we're talking about." Intense dark grey eyes rose to meet Ichigo's. "You're absolutely correct, I have suffered Aizen's 'complete hypnosis', however young Tōsen was with us during that week in Hueco Mundo, and as you know, he neither has nor can be thus compromised. I'm sorry, Kurosaki-kun, there is no chance that your father was forced into killing his friends. Whatever his reasons, it was most certainly done of his own free will."

Ichigo stepped back.

They couldn't deny this. He wasn't wrong. He had definitely, definitely, seen Aizen with his zanpakutō.

But, he realised, even if he argued, it would get him nowhere. Looking at them, at the pity in their eyes, they didn't believe him. Worse, they felt sorry for him, a stupid naive kid, believing Ichimaru's lies.

The room closed in around him, shame a heavy heat in his chest. He had to get out of here before he said something, did something, brought everything down around their ears. He could feel his reiatsu stirring.

If nothing else, that finally got Byakuya's attention. He lifted his head, his frown a warning of dire consequences if Ichigo failed to control himself, and Ichigo struggled to comply, to pull his reiryoku back inside. The air around him thrummed at the effort and a slow steady burn began in his hands. Fuck, fuck, he didn't mean to do that. He only wanted his own reiryoku back, that was all, no one else's. But once it was out there, it was almost impossible to separate from everything else, especially in close quarters like this.

He was on the verge of just walking out when the sōtaichō thumped his staff on the floor again and said, "Since the boy is here, Kuchiki, we will move on to the real purpose of this meeting." With a sharp look at Ichigo, he added, "Show me your hands."

The timing couldn't have been worse. Ichigo held them out, aware that the burning was getting worse as nerves piled on shame piled on frustration and anger. Shit, why was he such a fuck-up. He couldn't even do something this simple right.

"Control yourself, Kurosaki," Byakuya's voice, cool and calm, came from the other side of the room. It helped some but there was another who'd help more. _Zangetsu? _Ichigo whispered silently._ You there, old man? I could really really use your help right now._

Byakuya's office and the rest of the real world dropped away, sending him spinning upside down to land a moment later on juddering legs in his internal landscape. Zangetsu was waiting for him, blade in hand, and they met as they always did, across a rapid and vicious exchange of blows. It was exactly what he needed. The old man always knew.

Ichigo grinned manically, and when he saw Zangetsu's answering smirk, the gloves, both literally and metaphorically, came off. Reiatsu thundered out around them, peeling the landscape to pieces and obliterating it as it went. Steel rang, lightning sharp, as they clashed and clashed again, sacrificing edge for that single momentary advantage, that extra ounce of power and strength that might sway the direction of the fight. For an eternity they battled, so well matched that neither had the upper hand for more time than it took their hearts to beat. It was good, so so good. Muscles burned, breath sawed through his lungs and throat, his ears rang with the joyful sounds of pounding blood and clashing blades. The rage and shame that had threatened to consume Ichigo from the inside out, seared away, leaving only clear rational thought in its place.

He had seen Aizen's zanpakutō, that was fact, but since no one believed him, there was nothing he could do with that information except add it to his arsenal. Like his hakuda, his lousy kidō and Zangetsu himself, knowledge was just another weapon. Currently it was weak, but Ichigo could add to it, build it up, and when it was strong enough, he would wield it the same way he wielded Zangetsu, with power, commitment, and deadly accuracy.

Then, and only then, would he rescue his father, and tell the whole of Soul Society where to shove it.

Realising that, embracing the reality of his decision to succeed, released something deep inside Ichigo's soul. He parried an incoming blow and for the the first time saw his opening. A single step and the thrust slid home, piercing Zangetsu through and through. The zanpakutō spirit grasped Ichigo's wrist as hilt met flesh, his fingers as steely as the blade itself, and power pulsed between them, all of Ichigo's out of control reiatsu finding its natural home within Zangetsu's resilient form.

_Well fought, Ichigo,_ Zangetsu said, his body beginning to disperse. His voice lingered on, wise and compelling. _Now go. But return here soon. You are almost ready to advance once again._

The sōtaichō's face replaced Zangetsu's and Ichigo huffed out a relieved breath when he realised that the effects of his little sojourn inside had carried over to the real world. Not only was his reiryoku down to normal levels again, but his head felt clearer. Whatever stupid these guys wanted with him, he'd be able to deal without exploding, for a while at least.

_Thanks, old man,_ he thought and let himself relax.

A small surge of kidō saw the gloves released from his hands. Rather than let them drop to the floor, Ichigo took them off properly, reaching out to place them on the desk. As he put them down, he raised his eyes and his gaze met Byakuya's. For once the man looked pleased with him, and Ichigo offered a tentative smile. They might have fallen out but they weren't enemies, and never could be.

Beneath the cloth, his hands were blistered again and sore. Ichigo flexed them slightly, enjoying the sensation of having them open to the air, and wondered how long it would last this time.

"Hanatarō," Kyōraku said, and Ichigo glanced over to see the negator lowering his hood. What was left of his face still made Ichigo feel faintly nauseous, but he forced himself to look anyway. It put his complaints about his hands into context, that was for sure.

Here in Byakuya's office, in the full light of day, it was easier to see what had been done to the kid. His eyes were gone, even the sockets – Ichigo assumed he 'saw' with reiatsu like Tōsen-fukutaichō must do – but his other features were still there, if drowned by folds and folds of skin and saggy flesh. He even had hair, though it was a bit straggly and patchy in places. So, yeah, it was revolting, but Ichigo had seen worse in his father's mortuary. And Hanataro seemed to be reasonably happy with his life, so honestly, who was Ichigo to judge.

None of which excused the bastards who'd done this to him, of course. The 12th, probably, sick fuck that Kurotsuchi was. Or Urahara. He made monsters. He'd freely admitted that much to Ichigo up there on the hill. Was this the type of monster he made? And then there was Aizen. He'd been the one to put those eyes in Hisagi. And those were just the scientists who might have done the work. Someone must have ordered it to happen, commissioned a negator, knowing that a kid was going to be tortured and disfigured to make it happen.

Soul Society was just crawling with creeps.

The little guy came and stood in front of Ichigo, his head tipped back as though actually looking up at him. "I need you to use your Quincy powers, Kurosaki-sama," he said. "Could you please absorb a kidō for me?"

What the hell? Ichigo cast a sharp questioning glance over at Byakuya, who for once actually explained rather than just giving orders. "Given the damage the gloves are causing to your hands, Kyōraku-taichō has agreed to some of the restrictions being lifted, so long as the negator is able to identify your abilities and raise the alarm should you use them in an unauthorized manner. Thus the negator requires a demonstration of your capacity to absorb reiryoku and reishi."

"Oh, okay." Ichigo grinned down at Hanatarō, who was waiting patiently. "Give it your best shot."

It was just possible to see the corners of the kid's mouth curl into a smile. Hanatarō cupped his hands and said, "Shakkahō." The red kidō ball that formed between them was tiny compared to most offensive uses of the spell. "Will this be enough?" he asked a bit doubtfully. "I'm not very good at kidō and I didn't want to risk it hurting anyone."

"Don't know," Ichigo replied. "Let's give it a go, shall we." He flexed his fingers again, and carefully, gently, brought one down so it was just above the kidō ball. Then he 'felt' for it, letting the power of it call him. It wasn't easy, not when there were other sources of power in the room. The sōtaichō called him almost as strongly as the arena barrier had, pulsing hot and fierce. On the other side of the room, the familiar blood and steel flavour of Byakuya leapt out from the bland reishi background of the bookcases, and between them shivered Kyōraku, all dark shadows and intriguing. The only blank spot in the room was Hanatarō and yet again Ichigo was struck by the weirdness of the negator. Whatever it was that made negators sensitive to others' reiatsu completely hid their own. To Ichigo's Quincy senses, it was like he simply wasn't there.

But the kidō he held was. Ichigo focused on that, letting its small power signature dominate the others until it was the only one he could sense, then he opened to it. It was kind of like inhaling, except he did it with his hand. The power rushed in, and kept rushing, way too strong for such a small source. No, not strong, pure, that was it.

"Woah!" Ichigo gasped as his legs wobbled. A chair hit him in the back of the knees and he sank onto it gratefully, reeling from the high. "That's some good stuff. Holy crap." He opened eyes, watched the room spin once, and closed them again in a hurry. It was kinda like he'd felt last night after all the sake, but with more nausea. Which wasn't a good thing. He didn't want to throw up in front of the sōtaichō. It wouldn't look good. "Heh," he snickered as a thought suddenly occurred to him, "Wonder if I puked on Aizen after I ate his kidō?" And fuck, but he was flying high.

"Drink this," Byakuya's voice said just as a cup was pressed into his hand.

Ichigo blinked down at it. Tea, yeah that'd be good. He tried to grip the cup and failed, his hands more like lumps of meat than anything useful. Byakuya's fingers wrapped around his own, helping him lift the drink, and Ichigo found himself leaning into the guy. He just smelt so good, and he tasted better, and all that power was right there. So close. All he had to do was reach out and take -

The cup flew, spraying tea everywhere as Ichigo shoved Byakuya away. Far away. Far enough that Ichigo wouldn't touch/taste/smell him with these fucking Quincy senses. "Don't- " he choked, "Just don't." And then, "Okay, really gonna puke now." He folded up over his knees, breathing slowly and carefully as his stomach threatened to rebel. Crap, that had been too close. And this time it wouldn't have stopped with a shallow wound on face or hand. He'd have gone for the real thing.

It was the gloves, he realised. They were making it worse, like his body was starving, so when they came off, everyone around him turned into an all you can eat buffet.

Bile rose in his throat and he swallowed frantically, staring at his feet until his eyes felt like they might drop out. He tried to eat Byakuya, like a hollow ate a plus. That was so far beyond wrong, he couldn't even think of an excuse. What the hell was wrong with him?

Slowly the high began to subside, and with it the worst of the hunger, thank god. Ichigo hung on to his knees, his mind and gut both churning. Would he get to the point where he couldn't take the gloves off at all without hurting someone? That would suck big time. Having just discovered how to do touching stuff properly and how much fun it could be, he'd didn't want to have to stop.

Even if it meant he might hurt his lover?

A vivid memory of Ise's blistered face and Byakuya's bloody palm came back to haunt him and he shuddered. No, if there was any chance at all of him accidentally doing that, or worse, he rather cut his own hands off.

"It seems your theory was right, Kuchiki, though what we do about it is less clear."

The sōtaichō's gruff voice penetrated Ichigo's gloom. Carefully, Ichigo raised his head. "Sorry about that," he said, a bit blearily, turning to peer at Byakuya who was leaning against the desk looking a little pale even for him. "You okay?"

Byakuya nodded, and the interaction seemed to get him working again. He stood up and brushed at his haori. There was a wet patch, Ichigo realised. The tea. Had he knocked Byakuya down? He didn't remember.

"He did manage to stop himself. I don't think that achievement should be underestimated," Kyōraku said, and Ichigo couldn't help feeling a bit grateful that someone had noticed that. Despite being off his gourd, he had realised what he was about to do, and he had stopped himself. That had to count for something, didn't it?

"Hm," the sōtaichō grunted non-committally, leaning harder on his staff as he stared at Ichigo. "Well, boy? What do you think?"

Lies or honesty. Ichigo didn't think he could get his head round a lie at the moment and keep it straight. He opted for the truth. "I think the gloves are making it worse, sir."

The sōtaichō's eyes narrowed even further than their normal slits, and Ichigo wondered for a brief moment if he'd made a horrible mistake. Then Byakuya spoke. "He has been wearing them almost non-stop for over twenty-four hours. They were never designed for such usage."

And a moment later, Kyōraku joined in. "Agreed. Kurotsuchi said this might happen if his body wasn't allowed to recharge naturally. Some Quincy souls simply can't absorb all the reishi they need through normal means like shinigami and it seems young Kurosaki is one of them."

Kurotsuchi? That sicko was behind the gloves? Ichigo stared at them in horror, letting the full implications of Kyōraku's words sink in. If the bastard knew that, he had to have done research. And to do research, he had to have had experimental subjects.

His family weren't the first Quincy he'd tried to get his hands on. There'd been others. Fuck, Ichigo really hoped and prayed they were long dead and gone.

Kyōraku was still speaking, his voice sonorous and quietly full of authority. "Despite my initial reaction to Nanao-chan's injuries, I think it would be unfair to blame the boy entirely for this turn of events, Yama-jii. And you told me yourself, many years ago, that a hurt caused accidentally, even a grievous one, should not be measured against the same scale as those deliberately wrought."

He was talking about his family, Ichigo realised, and his own failure to be there to stop his brother. The fact that the guy would use that event to help Ichigo so close on the heels of Ichigo dragging the whole thing with Aizen up again, gave Ichigo hope. He'd thought the guy was pretty decent the first time they'd met, and only the thing with Ise had changed that. And in retrospect, if someone had done something like that to Karin or Yuzu then Ichigo would probably try and cut their head off too. He should definitely cut the guy some slack. Forgiveness went two ways.

The sōtaichō's frown only grew deeper and Ichigo started to get the really bad feeling that even Kyōraku wasn't going to be enough to save him this time.

"Kurosaki may be an officer of the Gotei, but as head of a noble house, unless some criminal act is suspected, Shiba Ichigo must be exempt from judgement by any but his peers," Byakuya pointed out, with impeccable timing. "To proceed otherwise would be to disregard the sovereign rights of all noble houses."

The threat was implicit but it worked. With a loud harrumph, the sōtaichō finally released Ichigo from his burning stare. "You have a point," he conceded. "However I will not let this continue indefinitely. If there are any more incidents, I will bring the matter before the Central 46."

"Fine, fine," Kyōraku said, gesturing placatingly, "Let's hope it doesn't come to that. Now, Hanatarō, were you able to get a reading on Kurosaki-kun?"

Damn, Ichigo had forgotten all about Hanatarō. The little negator appeared from behind the sōtaichō, his hood back up and his shaking hands clasped in front of him. "I-I think so, taicho-sama," he said, bowing deeply. "It's not like anything I've seen before but I'd definitely know it again if I sensed it."

"Excellent! Then I'll leave Yamada in your capable hands, Byakuya. Look after him well," Kyōraku boomed, slapping his hands on his thighs and standing up, towering over everyone. The office, which had seemed spacious, suddenly felt very small and cramped, and Ichigo realised why the captain had been sitting down all this time.

Byakuya nodded a bow at him. "I shall treat him as one of my own, Shunsui," he said, escorting the two visitors to the door and following them out.

Since he wasn't invited to go with them, Ichigo took the opportunity to slouch back in his chair, let his eyes slide closed, and puffed out a relieved breath. Talk about dodging a bullet.

A moment later, the sound of someone quietly clearing their throat reminded Ichigo he wasn't alone. He pulled himself upright and blinked sleepily at Hanatarō, who was standing clutching at his hakama as if he was scared they were going to fly off. "Guess it's just us now, yeah?" Ichigo said, trying to put the little guy at ease. "Sorry you got dragged into this."

"I don't mind, Kurosaki-sama," Hanatarō replied, his bobbing bows deep and repetitive. "It's no inconvenience to me. Serving you is an honour."

"Just 'Ichigo' is fine," Ichigo told him, knowing he was likely to be ignored. "Or at least drop the sama. It makes me feel like Byakuya."

The little guy stopped bowing and 'looked' at him. "You are both heads of noble houses, sir."

Ichigo waved a dismissive hand at him. "Yeah, but he's like, the head of a real one. I'm just a Shiba. We're chicken feed compared to the Kuchiki."

"But only to feed the Soul King's chickens, surely." The smile was audible in the little negator's voice and Ichigo couldn't help but echo it, saying. "Yeah, okay, maybe you've got a point. There's no getting away from being a noble in this place."

An uneasy silence fell between them after that, Ichigo wondering what the hell you talked about when someone was assigned as your personal alarm system, and coming up with nothing. Maybe Hanatarō would be like Take and the other escorts. Ichigo had tried talking to them at first, but they'd kept it all pretty formal despite his best efforts to get them to relax. Looking at Hanatarō, Ichigo hoped the little guy wasn't the same. They were likely to end up in pretty close quarters in the future, and he'd rather they became friends.

He was just about to try asking about hobbies, since favourite bands and TV shows weren't an option, when out of nowhere Hanatarō asked tentatively, "Sir? Did you really see Aizen-fukutaichō's zanpakutō?"

Considering the way the conversation with the captains had just gone down, Ichigo thought he probably should say no, but lying to the kid seemed wrong, even if it did end up causing trouble. "I think so, yeah. Why?" he added suspiciously. "D'you think I'm imagining things too?"

That garnered him a frightened squeak and another series of rapidly dipped bows. "No, sir! Of course not, sir. I'm sorry for doubting you, sir. Sorry, sorry."

Crap, he hadn't meant to scare the guy. "Hey, no, I'm not mad, okay," Ichigo said trying to diffuse the situation. He leaned forward, thinking to pat the little guy on the shoulder, only for him to flinch and kind of roll up like a terrified hedgehog. Damn it, Ichigo thought, asking about hobbies probably wasn't going to cut it now. What else could he try? Well, there was one thing they had in common. "I'm guessing you've seen it too, huh?" he asked, and okay, 'see' might not be the right word, but screw it, that was all Ichigo could think of. If Hanatarō didn't like it, he was going to have to come up with alternative himself.

At least the cowering stopped. Hanatarō cocked his head inquisitively. "The zanpakutō?" he asked.

"Ah. What's it called again?" Ichigo knew full well what its name was, but using the subject as an ice breaker might get Hanatarō to relax at bit. "I'm lousy with names," he added. That much was true, at least.

"Kyōka Suigetsu, sir," Hanatarō replied, standing up completely. "And I was exposed to it twice. Once while it was sealed and without Aizen-fukutaichō present. Then later with him there while it was in shikai." He shuddered. "It tastes very strange, flat."

"Like water left out in the sun," Ichigo finished, the memory of the flavour returning to him. Crap, did that mean he had seen the shikai?

"Yes, that's right," Hanatarō said, "but that's only when its sealed. In shikai it gets sweet, like honey."

"All the better to lure in the stupid ants, I guess," Ichigo replied with a relieved chuckle. He'd never smelt that, so maybe he was safe. "And his reiryoku tastes of green tea. Surreal, right?"

"_You_ can taste reiryoku too?" Now he really had the kid's interest. Hanatarō shuffled towards him and dropped into seiza at his feet, staring up at him. Okay, no eyes, but the principle remained.

Ichigo grasped at the opportunity to put his experiences into a bit of perspective. There had to be some kind of an upside to wanting to eat your friends. "Sure, when I do the Quincy thing, it kind of leaves an after-taste. Yours, hmm..." He had to think about this so as not to insult the kid. "It was kind of two tone. The kidō was fiery, which I guess, yeah, it was shakkahō, so it would be. And some of the reiryoku was edgy, a bit medicinal," which he guessed came from the way Hanatarō's body had been fucked about with. "But the rest of it, wow. You're packing one hell of a punch there. It was... clean, pure." White, though that seemed like the wrong word for a flavour.

"Oh, I'm sorry, that bit probably wasn't me," Hanatarō said, bobbing his head down again. "Kyōraku-taichō gave me a sample to feed to you along with my own reiryoku."

"A sample? From where?" Seriously, what was wrong with these guys? Were they all mad scientists?

And they were back to the cringing. Hanatarō grovelled, saying, "I don't know, sir. Unohana-taichō maybe? Healing reiatsu would be very pure."

Ichigo huffed, furious at being slipped a mickie, but not wanting to take it out on Hanatarō. It wasn't like the captains were going to let the negator in on their plans; he was just a tool, just following orders. "Well, whatever it was, it was strong," he said. Dangerous. Addictive. Even now, sitting here, he wanted more of it, though the other hunger had subsided. Absently he added, "Plus it was kind of white, though how the hell it managed that, I don't know."

His hands tingled, and when he glanced down at them, he realised the blisters were almost completely gone. Huh, maybe it had been Unohana's reiryoku then. Ichigo found that idea a bit of a comfort. He'd been a bit worried that it might have been Kurotsuchi's. No, that would be dark and corrupt.

Hanatarō giggled, hands over his face to try and contain the sound. "Ichinose, the fourth seat of the 11th, has a zanpakutō that tastes of rainbows," he said. "I think it's because it manipulates light. But you're right, sir, it does seem strange that a flavour should be a colour. Tōsen-fukutaichō's Suzumushi is black and gold, and Hirako-taichō's a clear sky-blue. Maybe it's because they confuse the senses, thus their reiryoku is a confusion as well. But then again Aizen-fukutaichō's doesn't, so maybe I'm just wrong."

He sounded so defeated that Ichigo tossed out, "It could depend on who's tasting them too. Bet you pick them up different to everyone else." He leaned back in his chair again, stretching his legs out, and folded his arms behind his head. This was interesting. And fun. He didn't think he'd enjoyed a conversation quite like this since getting to Soul Society. Everyone was always so tied up in challenging each other all the time. Hanatarō, the poor bastard, couldn't challenge anyone, which made him relaxing company.

Two familiar reiryoku signatures were heading towards the office. Ichigo grinned, waited till they got close enough, and said, "Renji always reckons he can smell cherry blossom when Kuchiki-taichō releases Senbonzakura. I just get blood and steel."

"I suspect Abarai is something of a romantic," Byakuya said from the doorway, followed by Renji's offended, "Hey!" from behind him.

As the pair swept into the room, Hanatarō cowered, and Ichigo shot him a reassuring grin. He didn't know how things worked at the 8th, but this was what passed for normal around here, and the familiarity of it was almost enough to drive away the stress of the past few hours. Ichigo felt like he'd been through an emotional wringer, a bit of sniping was exactly what he needed. He sat up and squinted at Renji, who looked wrung out too. And grubby. "You been gardening?" Ichigo asked him, pointing at the streaks of dirt on his face.

Renji swiped at them ineffectually. "Been cleaning the new quarters," he said. "Turns out the lieutenant's rooms've been empty all these years. I never even knew we had any."

"You could have requested staff from the estate, Renji. I wouldn't have minded," Byakuya put in and Ichigo was struck by how hard they were all trying to make things seem normal. Like Ichigo hadn't just tried to eat Byakuya, and Renji wasn't talking about moving out.

Renji shrugged and sank into another chair. "Eh, I wasn't doing anything anyway." He fixed Ichigo with a sceptical look. "Certain people had other plans for this afternoon and training alone didn't sound like much fun. Least this way we'll have a proper bed tonight."

This was the point at which Ichigo always fetched tea. He stood up automatically saying, "Didn't stop you sleeping last night. Snoring like a chainsaw for most of it, you were." And as he spoke, he just happened to be looking at Byakuya, who was half turned away from them, examining some papers on his desk. A hurt expression skated briefly across his face and Ichigo realised his eyes were bruised as though he'd hardly slept at all. Apparently the break-up wasn't treating all of them equally. He tried to feel bad about it, and failed. Byakuya had brought it on himself by being a control-freak asshole.

But when he glanced back at Renji, he could see the sentiment wasn't shared. Renji was staring at the captain like a drowning man looked for land. Honestly, the guy was so besotted it was pathetic. No matter what Renji said, Ichigo suspected he'd be back with Byakuya sooner rather than later. And he'd be on his own in doing it, Ichigo decided. Unless things changed beyond all recognition, and knowing Byakuya, they never would. The guy was never going to climb down off that high-horse of his and Ichigo was fed-up with getting a crick in his neck just trying to relate to him. So fuck 'em, they were on their own. He'd find himself someone else.

"Yeah, sorry, you're out of luck this evening as well," he said to Renji, changing his mind about getting drinks. "I've got more errands to run. But I'll be back later. Where're the rooms?"

Renji gave him brief directions; second floor of the third barrack block, north end; and Ichigo was about to leave them to it when Byakuya said, "Before you go, Kurosaki."

When Ichigo glanced over, he was holding up the damn gloves, though he at least had the decency to look uncomfortable about it. "Seriously?" Ichigo said, and jerked a thumb at his shadow. "I thought I just had to drag Hanatarō around with me now."

"If you're leaving division grounds, you must wear the gloves," Byakuya said, "However if you don't wish to learn the sealing kidō yourself...?" He let his words trail off, as if the subject was of no importance.

Ichigo glared at him. Bastard, winding him up like that. "And you didn't think to say that before?" he groused, stomping back to the desk and sticking both hands out. "Go on then, show me how it works."

It turned out to be as easy as feeding a little of his reiatsu directly into the seal. The first time he and Byakuya had to do it simultaneously, and that primed the kidō to accept Ichigo's alone.

"A great faith is being put in you, Ichigo," Byakuya instructed as Ichigo played with the gloves, sealing and unsealing them till they were both happy he could do it easily. "Do not abuse it."

Ichigo raised his eyes to meet Byakuya's deadly serious gaze and nodded. "Yeah, I know. And I won't. The sōtaichō'll jump on any infringements, I got the message." Plus Byakuya and Kyōraku had put themselves out there for him, and he wasn't about to screw them over for it, even if they had been dumb-asses about Aizen's zanpakutō.

"Good, then you have my permission to leave the division grounds. Have a pleasant evening, Ichigo, and please try not to break any laws this time."

The grin and bow Ichigo gave him were as unrepentant as they were sincere, and with Hanatarō on his heels, he headed for the door and freedom.


	11. Cruel (Shady Tiger ReMix)

Leaning back in his chair so as to see out of the door, Renji bellowed, "Oi, Kurosaki, training, first thing tomorrow!"

Byakuya watched as Ichigo raised a single finger in reply and kept walking. Hardly the suitable response for a lieutenant to his captain, but that was no longer his concern. Even so, he couldn't quite prevent his frown of disapproval, which Renji of course spotted.

"Yeah, I know," Renji sighed, resting his elbows on his knees and scrubbing at his hair. "It's not how you'd do it."

"Which I believe was the entire point of you taking over," Byakuya replied. He glanced toward the door again. Ichigo had reached the top of the stairs and had stopped to speak to someone who was on their way up. His body language spoke of defensiveness tinged with chagrin, and Byakuya wasn't surprised to see Hisana appear a moment later, her face like thunder as she spoke in short clipped phrases to Ichigo.

She was most probably on her way to apologise. The looks she'd cast Byakuya's way as he walked Shunsui and the sōtaichō out suggested extreme shame at having let Ichigo slip past her. Byakuya found it hard to lay the blame exclusively on her shoulders. He'd felt Ichigo arrive himself and at that speed of shunpo, he would have been halfway up the stairs before she'd even seen him.

Since she was here though, he should take the opportunity to speak to her, and having Renji present for the interview would be a good thing.

Sure enough, when Ichigo left, Hisana turned towards the office and, seeing Byakuya looking at her, she flushed and hurried towards him. "Please accept my sincere apologies, taichō," she said, dipping a respectful bow when she reached the door. "Allowing Kurosaki-sanseki to disturb an important meeting was an unforgivable error on my part."

When she stood up and saw Renji was also in the office, she glanced between the two of them, blushed again, and added, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt."

"You're not. Please, come in and close the door, Sagara. I was planning to send for you anyway."

Renji looked confused for a second before his face cleared in an, 'Aha', moment, and he sat back in his chair, arms folded, apparently settling in to watch the show. Hisana looked less reassured but she did as she was told, coming to stand to attention in front of the desk as Byakuya took his seat.

"Recent small lapse aside, you are an excellent officer," Byakuya began, rather enjoying the way his fifth seat's expression went from bracing herself for a dressing down to complete confusion.

Then she glanced back at Renji again, and a pale echo of his moment of enlightenment passed over her face. "Thank you, sir," she said, a bit breathlessly.

"I see you've made the connection," Byakuya allowed his eyes to shift to Renji as well for a moment. No doubt Renji's eviction from his quarters were already common gossip around the division.

Some lingering confusion mingled in with the hope when she replied, "I erm... perhaps?"

She was reasonably confident of her promotion then, though this was almost definitely not going to play out in the way she thought. "Then I shall explain. Do I need to remind you that anything discussed here is in the strictest confidence?" He shouldn't need to mention it, but it always bore saying.

Hisana's reaction was gratifyingly immediate and total. She bowed respectfully and answered, "No, sir!"

"Good. Then this is the situation. As you probably suspect, Abarai is ready to try for a captaincy," Byakuya said, noting the way Hisana's eyes drifted to Renji again. "And I have given him permission to proceed. This will of course open up two additional senior officer's posts. One at whichever division Abarai acquires, and one here at the 6th." He took a breath and he hoped she wouldn't be too disappointed. "I would like you to consider the post of lieutenant here, Sagara, to replace Abarai when he leaves."

She did an almost perfect double take, her mouth opening to accept the position as Renji's fukutaichō, Byakuya was sure, only to snap closed again as she processed the actual offer being made. A moment later his suspicion was confirmed when she said, "Here, sir? But I thought Kurosaki...?" The words trailed off and a flush crawled up her neck as she realised she was effectively second guessing her own promotion. Ironically it was this very ability, to be constantly aware of the political winds, that would have made her an ideal fukutaichō for Renji. But that was not to be. Byakuya would simply have to ensure her skills weren't wasted here at the 6th either.

"That was the original plan, yes," he replied, raising the level of candour he would normally allow with a fifth seat. If she accepted the post, she would by default become privy to many decisions and much information denied her in the past. "However recent events have dictated otherwise. Kurosaki-sanseki will now serve as Abarai's fukutaichō should he be successful."

"I-I see," she said, her gaze in constant motion between Byakuya, Renji and the wall behind them both. "Permission to speak freely, sir?" she asked a moment later.

"Granted," Byakuya said with a dip of his chin. If he wanted a 'yes, man', he would appoint Koniwa as lieutenant. Hisana's value lay in her insights, something which needed to be shared freely and without censure.

Eyes fixed on the wall and colour rising in her cheeks, she said, "I think that's a really bad idea, sir. Neither of them knows when to shut up."

Renji's snort of laughter was almost enough to make Byakuya smile. He managed, just, to control it, helped along by the disgusted look Hisana shot in Renji's direction. "Well, it's true," she protested, "Though at least Abarai-fukutaichō tries. Kurosaki..." She huffed, gaze dropping to her feet and voice lowering to not much above a whisper. "He just doesn't seem to care what anyone thinks, sir."

Accurate and very much to the point. Byakuya decided he would probably enjoy having Hisana alongside him. "I concur," he said, "however that is for them to tackle. That decision has already been made. All that remains is for you to accept or refuse my offer. Do you need time to think about it?" He had rather sprung it on her. Perhaps it would be better not to push.

But apparently such consideration was unnecessary. "No, not at all, sir," she said, and snapped into a bow, "I would be honoured to serve as your lieutenant."

Now Byakuya did permit himself a small smile. "Excellent. We'll keep this between ourselves for now, until Renji's leaving becomes official, however if you could start handling some of the paperwork?"

She snorted quietly and scuffed her foot against the floor. "Won't be much of a change there, sir, but yes." A brief hesitation and then, "Is um... Is Koniwa-sanseki to be informed?"

"In due course," Byakuya replied. He couldn't imagine the third seat expected the promotion for himself. The man was neither powerful nor astute enough to be useful in that capacity. Even so, it behove Byakuya to inform him personally. "I shall handle that myself."

"Yes, sir." Another bow, and more shifting eye contact. There definitely seemed to be more, though she seemed equally reluctant to ask.

Allowing his impatience to get the better of him, Byakuya said, "I gave you permission to speak freely, Sagara. If there is more you wish to know, ask."

"Sir..." she hesitated, wet her lips, and then plunged on, her colour progressing rapidly towards hectic as she spoke. "Will taichō be requiring the same level of service from me as he does from Abarai-fukutaichō, sir?"

Oh, that. Perhaps he should have made his lack of personal involvement clear from the start. Though the idea of the woman even offering herself was intriguing. "No, that won't be necessary," he replied. "My marriage to Shihōin Yoruichi is to be formalised within the month."

Hisana's reaction was an odd mixture of relief and disappointment. Byakuya had never thought to invite her into his and Renji's bed before, thinking she wouldn't be interested. A missed opportunity, most definitely, in retrospect. She was a pretty little thing, but one whose time had now passed. Yoruichi may have happily tolerated a man in his bed, but he doubted she would appreciate another woman, unless it was Soifon.

"Anything else?" he asked, allowing his tone to shift towards dismissal. He could sense the stirring in Renji's reiatsu and suspected there was a conversation to be had there as well.

"No, sir. Only," she turned to Renji, and bowed, "just in case I don't get a chance to say it later, good luck, sir. You'll make a great captain, I'm sure. Anyone'd be proud to serve under you."

"So long as I learn when to shut up, eh?" Renji tossed back with a grin, though it seemed tinged with something. Bitterness maybe?

She smiled at him, "And remember to finish your paperwork, file all your reports and not fall out with your neighbours." She shook her head. "I hope Kurosaki knows what he's letting himself in for."

Renji shrugged, apparently unmoved by her concerns, "We'll just have to find ourselves a decent third seat to civilise us. Don't suppose you've got any ideas?"

"You could try my sister," Hisana suggested after a moment's consideration. "I know transfers between divisions are unusual, but she is in the 13th, so they're allies at least."

Byakuya schooled his expression as Renji's face froze, his eyes a little wild at the prospect of his worst creepy nightmare coming true. He managed to recover after a moment though and said, only a little warily, "Yeah, okay, I'll um, I'll think about it. Thanks."

If Hisana noticed his reaction, she was too much the politician to mention it. Turning back to Byakuya, she said, "And I'd recommend Kurosaki Karin to take over my current job, sir. I know you're looking to get her out of the field and she's proven herself capable in difficult situations. Her zanjutsu is more than equal to the security aspects of the role and I think she'd handle that part of the job admirably with little coaching. I can train her in the rest, if you want; mission co-ordination, report collation, and the like. It's intense, but I think she'd do okay given a bit of time to learn."

Byakuya's eyebrows rose as she spoke and he could hardly wait for her to finish before putting in, "Are you suggesting her for fifth seat?"

Rather than flush or stammer, Hisana met his eyes confidently. "I am, sir. She's more than ready. Her work with squad seven has been excellent and she's almost reached shikai. She'll have it within the year, I'm certain."

Byakuya blinked. That was news to him, and he'd spoken to the girl that very morning. He cast a look at Renji, who shrugged as if to say, news to me too. Things had been fraught lately, but had they really allowed themselves to drift this much out of touch with the division? Byakuya resolved to pay more attention. "I shall look into it," he said. "Thank you for your advice."

"I'm glad to be of help, sir." Hisana bowed. "If that's all?"

"Yes, thank you." Then, thinking of Renji, and the shroud of gloom that seemed to have settled around him, he added, "If anyone else wishes to see me, I am unavailable until tomorrow."

"Yes, sir," she said, and with a final bow, turned and left, closing the door behind her.

As the catch clicked shut, Renji sighed and said, "She's gonna make you a good fukutaichō."

Byakuya, still staring at the door in some surprise, replied, "I think you may be right." He'd decided on Hisana because he needed a lieutenant and she was convenient and trustworthy, but after that conversation, he was starting to think she might be the perfect choice after all. Her attention to detail would allow him to focus on the bigger picture. "What a pity she'll never have the power to be a captain."

"You could always..." Renji began and then grimaced. "Nah, ya couldn't. She'd lose all the stuff that makes her good captain material."

"Indeed," Byakuya agreed immediately, turning his attention to Renji. "Not to mention such power being inherently unstable and almost certainly doomed to consume her eventually. There's a reason there are no hybrids currently serving at the highest levels."

"Except Hisagi," Renji tossed back, linking his hands above his head and stretching out in his chair, long legs reaching out in front of him. "And I'm thinking that rank of his is more for Hirako's amusement than anything else."

The late afternoon sun streaming in through the window turned Renji's hair to bloody fire. Several strands had come loose from the braid and clung to his neck and face, overlaying both dirt and the darker lines of his tattoos. As he spoke, he puffed them away and then swiped at them, scraping them back behind his ears.

Leaning his elbow on the desk, Byakuya rested his cheek in his hand and enjoyed the view while he could. Renji cut an astoundingly attractive figure like that, for all the smuts on his face and neck. In fact they only enhanced his beauty in Byakuya's eyes, lying as they did across cheek and jaw, and seeming to follow the very paths Byakuya had earmarked for more ink. It made Byakuya regretful that he'd never got around to having the work finished. He'd thought they still had time, several decades at least, and now it would never be done.

But even incomplete Renji was still beautiful, strong and powerful.

Much like his uncle, Byakuya had little time for things too delicate to withstand a little rough handling, and Renji had never fallen into the category. That was one of Yoruichi's main charms, really. He would never have to fear harming her physically, she was far too strong for that.

Having Renji here with him was good, even if it was only for conversation. Byakuya had missed him last night. The bed had been cold and horribly empty. This morning in the office, the only way he'd been able to keep a suitable distance between them had been to firmly reinforce their respective ranks. Now though, Byakuya was tired, and with that tiredness came vulnerability. He wanted to indulge himself, to simply enjoy Renji's company, but he needed to be careful. It wouldn't do to fall foul of his own feelings again like he had last night. The last thing Renji needed at this moment was emotions confusing the issue. He needed to be focused on his goal: Muguruma and the 9th.

"What about long term?" Renji asked.

"Long term?" It took Byakuya a moment to realise he was still speaking of Hisana, and by then Renji had already started to elucidate. "You know, if someone with a bit more punch shows up." A real replacement for himself, Renji meant, though the words remained unspoken.

"I can't imagine such a scenario arising," Byakuya said, raising a small smile in Renji direction. "You're forgetting I will be a respectable married man with children by then."

Renji smirked at him. "You, with kids. I can't hardly imagine it. First time one of them pukes on you, you'll have a hissy fit." Byakuya couldn't prevent his nose wrinkling in revulsion at the idea, which simply made Renji laugh. "See, and I bet Yoruichi-sama's the same. Pair of you, useless around kids."

"I believe that is why servants were invented," Byakuya said primly, turning to his desk and shuffling a stack of papers. Reverting to the previous, less mortifying subject, he said, "In any case, if the situation does arise, there is always a third seat, or I will offer Hisana a place in the clan to secure her future could she be induced to retire. I have several distant relatives with enough power to perhaps be attractive to her."

"Marry her in, y'mean?" Renji asked, sitting up and leaning forward, elbows on knees. "People'll not like that. Making a gaki into a noble."

"And by 'people', I assume you mean the much esteemed Kuchiki elders?" Byakuya raised an eyebrow as Renji simply glowered rather than confirm his suggestion. Had Renji been subject to that much discrimination? Byakuya had done his best to keep it to tolerable levels, at least in his presence. But he couldn't be everywhere and the prejudice against the 'impure' souls from outside the walls went deep in some quarters. "I fear it's something the elders will have to learn to accept. All the noble clans are suffering from a decline in raw power, and our best hope is to draw in suitable people from Rukongai rather than setting ourselves apart from them as we have done historically. That is a war of attrition I fear we cannot win."

He levelled a look at Renji. "I would have done the same with you before you made your run, had there been time. It would have acted as a safeguard at least, if something went wrong."

"Ya mean marry me into the clan too?" Renji's lips drew back in what might have been called a smile, though it was a far from pleasant expression.

Byakuya pressed on anyway, wanting to prove to Renji that he had thought this through. That he wasn't, as Yoruichi so callously put it, just 'throwing him out of the nest'. "Why not. If you failed in your attempt, you would at least then not lose all legal protection within Seireitei. And surely a union with some minor noble's daughter, or perhaps a younger son if you didn't want children, would not be so objectionable. It may even be enough to induce the others into permitting you to join the alliance, obviously as a cadet member. Though you would need to tread carefully, with respect." Yoruichi and Ukitake would most definitely agree. Kyōraku would be more difficult, ironic considering that, unlike the Kuchiki and the Shihōin, his family was not amongst the original first clans.

Renji's grin became a laugh, one which was as unamused as the smile had been. He shook his head, his gaze dropping to his feet. "You're gonna have to sell it better than that," he said, and Byakuya felt he had to be missing something, though what it might be he couldn't fathom. After a moment of silence, Renji cocked his head and asked, "That why no one's moved against that creep Urahara yet? Is Yoruichi-sama thinking of doing the same for him?"

The wicked gleam in Yoruichi's eyes as she'd outlined her plans for Urahara and Soifon sprang immediately to Byakuya's mind. "Eventually," he replied, "though perhaps not with the relevant party's best interests in mind." At Renji's quizzical look, he added, "The detail is unimportant. However the immediate future of the 2nd is not." This was his main excuse for calling Renji here this afternoon. As a lieutenant and commoner Renji had always been excluded from the highest levels of strategy meetings between the noble captains. Now Byakuya needed to ensure he was properly briefed in order to serve the alliance's purposes. "Yoruichi is gifting the 2nd to Urahara."

"Gifting?" Renji said, frown deepening. "As in 'handing over free and gratis'?"

Byakuya dipped his chin in affirmation and Renji immediately sat upright, palms on his thighs, looking affronted. "Just because she's marrying you? We talking complaints about conflict of interest? 'Cause I call bullshit if they're saying that."

"No, not that," Byakuya replied, amused at the misunderstanding and suspecting Renji would not be the last to leap to the same conclusion. "Ironically, entirely the opposite. She is marrying to assuage her elders complaints at her having given the 2nd to a commoner." At Renji's frown of confusion he continued, "She sought to prevent him having to challenge for a division." And would not be persuaded otherwise no matter who asked. The result of her unwillingness to risk her friend was Byakuya having to risk Renji in a run. Perhaps a premature one, given the fragility of his bankai, though him taking Ichigo would help. They were both stronger together than they were apart.

"Oh, okay, that makes sense, though I dunno what she's worrying about. The bastard's more than capable." Renji nodded as though it confirmed something he'd suspected. "I had wondered why you guys had chosen now to make the hook up official. It always seemed like something neither of ya were looking to hurry along." He appeared to relax a little, sinking back into his chair, fingers linked across his belly, and Byakuya found himself echoing the motion, or at least relaxing somewhat. He should send for tea. Or perhaps something stronger, though it was a little early for sake. Whichever, without Ichigo here, they would have to fend for themselves. Perhaps he should have asked Hisana – but no, he didn't want interruptions. He wanted to be greedy and keep Renji all for himself.

"So you're down to the 6th, 8th... " Renji paused, his brow furrowing at he glared his feet. "Yoruichi-sama's not giving the onmitsukidō up, is she?"

"Most assuredly not." If nothing else, Byakuya was relying on them being available to supplement his own need for security. His own people were good, but unlike Renji and Ichigo, inadequate against any lieutenants who happened to be feeling lucky.

"Good. You'll need 'em. I can't see Hisana sitting outside yer bedroom door all night."

And again there was an undercurrent to Renji's words. Were he speaking with another, Byakuya would have called it bitterness, though he couldn't imagine why Renji should suddenly be feeling that way. He did want this captaincy, that much Byakuya was certain of, so why would he feel resentful?

"It's Yoruichi's move then, that made up your mind about me making a run," Renji said, gaze rising to meet Byakuya's direct and head on. It burned with incredible intensity. "I guess you guys could end up on a back foot pretty quick with her throwing in the towel. It's not like Ukitake's up for much any more. He's gotta be on his way out soon."

Though accurate, the observation was couched in the most overly-familiar terms. Byakuya opened his mouth to censure Renji for his rudeness as he normally would, only to close it again and turn away. Such discipline was no longer his to administer. As Renji had said to Hisana earlier, he had to learn for himself when he should stop speaking.

However Renji had cut to the heart of the situation. Even Byakuya had to admit, privately, that supporting Ukitake was becoming untenable, and yet in many ways it was only Ukitake that kept Shunsui at the 8th. If he didn't have his long time friend to support, Byakuya suspected he would hand the division to Yadomaru and Ise, and retire back to the family estates.

Whenever that happened, and it was a situation that was bound to come to pass sooner rather than later, Byakuya would be left as the only noble still holding a division. A potentially disastrous position even with Yoruichi as his wife. Lacking an alliance to back him up, the mutual non-aggression pacts they had with several of the other captains would evaporate, leaving him vulnerable to political and military attacks from all twelve of the other divisions rather than just the four or five he had to worry about now. And the 6th would be very rich pickings indeed for any who took her.

No, he couldn't even think about approaching Shunsui about Ukitake's retirement until he'd ensured enough support within the Gotei to replace both of them. How fortuitous it was then that he had thought to plan in advance. He levelled a look at Renji, "However we are not entirely devoid of raw numbers. You are forgetting yourself and Ichigo."

"If you're assuming Ichigo's a shoo in for your alliance, him being a Shiba and all, yer barking up the wrong tree," Renji pointed out, drawing Byakuya's immediate attention. When he saw he had it, Renji shrugged, his gaze hardening still further, "He's not automatically gonna be on your side, you've gotta know that. Ichigo's a wild card. He's gonna follow his heart, no matter what. And nothing I do's gonna make a difference. If that's why you're sending him off with me, it ain't gonna work."

Except keeping him wouldn't have worked either. Byakuya blinked to hide his disappointment. Did that mean there would be more publicly embarrassing episodes like this one about Aizen in the near future? Not that he entirely blamed Ichigo, or even Ichimaru. The similarities between the two cases were striking, and the possibility of Aizen's involvement had been raised more than once over the years. It was almost a pity it was so impossible. As a solution it was one that would rest easier with Byakuya than blaming Isshin. And of course Ichigo felt the same. It was inevitable.

Shunsui would be unlikely to see it that way. Though tolerant for now, he would eventually start blame such lapses in behaviour on the remnants of Ichigo's humanity, the impurity of his soul, the very argument he'd used to distance himself from the Shiba children's case originally. A strange notion considering that very outspokenness was something he'd apparently respected in Isshin and his father.

"Well, perhaps he will mature enough to see sense before he claims his own division. In the meantime at least I can rely on you, Renji," Byakuya said. "It's a comfort to know that whatever happens, you'll always be on my side." And at his back. Reliable and trustworthy. Honestly, if Byakuya had any other choice, he would not be sending Renji away like this. But if Ichigo was going to prove temperamental then they would have to look elsewhere for that extra support, which meant claiming as many of the divisions as they could, as quickly as they could.

Perhaps he should finally do as he'd been promising himself and make an overture towards Gin. It wouldn't have to be anything overt, nothing which made him vulnerable, and it would go some way towards proving he wasn't antagonistic towards those from Rukongai, not if they embraced the values of Seireitei and comported themselves in a suitable manner as Renji did. That had after all been Isshin's original plan.

Years ago, Isshin had argued with Kōga for the need to find some way of including non-nobles into their alliance. Marrying them into the clans was a compromise, one that Isshin had seen that as a poor second option. 'Better yet,' he'd said, 'we should bring them up ourselves.' Which is what he'd done with Gin, in an attempt to prove it was possible.

Byakuya only just remembered Gin being brought in from the camps. He himself had been very young, he knew that because his mother had still been alive. Isshin had brought the boy with him when he'd come to visit the Kuchiki estate one time. Gin had been younger still than Byakuya, no more than five or six in terms of physical maturity, and yet had already managed to get his hands on an asauchi, which he took great pleasure in showing off to the seethingly jealous Byakuya. It had been the beginning of their great rivalry, and friendship, which had ended so bloodily on that single night. And afterwards, Gin had turned his back on the clans completely, re-embracing his Rukongai roots as though Isshin had had no part in his upbringing. The only common thread he'd pursued was the Shiba legacy of rescuing from the camps the little ones so powerful that they presented a threat to themselves and others.

Shunsui, of course, saw Gin's reversion as proof that gaki couldn't be trusted. But Isshin's ideas about how to stabilise the Gotei were sound, Byakuya was firmly convinced of that. It was that belief which had sent him out to the proving grounds that day when he'd encountered Renji. Not for someone to warm his bed, and certainly not for a lover, though that was ultimately what he'd found, but for an equivalent of what Isshin had created in Gin; a faithful companion, lieutenant and student. And potentially the first building block of a new generation of Gotei captains, born in Rukongai, but brought up to understand the importance of loyalty to a greater cause, to the institutions of Seireitei, and the rule of law rather than of tooth and claw.

And he'd managed it, after a fashion. In spite of himself, and Renji, at times, he was sure. Until Ichigo had arrived and started a whole cascade of events that no one could have foreseen. Now his carefully constructed plans were being strained to their limits. But so far they were holding.

"Trouble is," Renji's voice said, from far too close. "I reckon yer forgetting something important."

Byakuya blinked out of his reverie to find Renji perched on the desk in front him, elbows on his knees, feet planted firmly on the corners of the chair and bracketing Byakuya's thighs, and an expression which could only be described as wolfish on his face. How had he got so close, so fast, without Byakuya reacting to the danger?

The answer to that was simple. His warrior's instincts no longer recognised Renji as a danger.

He should probably move, remind Renji of their respective ranks, reinforce the status quo. To that end, Byakuya pushed at Renji with his reiatsu, expecting Renji to give ground as he always did. But not this time. This time Renji held firm, and then began to push back.

Byakuya's pulse leapt. Were his instincts wrong?

No, there was no violence in Renji's reiatsu, no killing intent. Just iron-hard resolution. An absolute refusal to give ground.

Which didn't make it any more right. Still, Byakuya couldn't bring himself to fight back. To do so would be to bring the rest of the division down on their heads, on Renji's head, and that was the last thing Byakuya wanted.

As though sensing that Byakuya was outmanoeuvred, Renji leaned closer, the wooden chair creaking as he rested his weight against it, hands clamping onto the back effectively trapping Byakuya in place. "I ain't yours no more," he growled.

A shudder ran through Byakuya from head to toe. The heat in Renji's breath, his voice, the implication of the words, stirred that part of him which lived for danger. His tongue slid out to wet lips which were suddenly bone dry. Renji's eyes fixed on it, and when he spoke again, it was Byakuya's mouth he addressed. "I ain't yer lapdog, and I ain't gonna walk ta heel. In fact," he leaned closer still, and Byakuya had to tighten his fingers on the arms of the chair to prevent himself from reaching out for him. "If I wanted an easy kill, all I gotta do is take you down right now."

Up until that moment Byakuya had always considered the characters in his erotic novels who cried things like, 'take me, take me', to be badly written and sadly over-wrought. Now he took it all back. Every ounce of his will power was being channelled into his self-control and yet he could still feel it slipping. Renji's scent saturated every breath he took, the heat of him was everywhere. Eyes like twin coals burned their way under Byakuya's skin until he felt like he would spontaneously combust if Renji didn't just do something. Touch him somewhere.

He might have whined. It was very probably contemptible, but Byakuya couldn't bring himself to care when it won him those final few inches. Renji's lips brushed against his, but instead of a kiss, there were words, hoarse and brusque. "On yer knees, Kuchiki."

The chair slid back so fast it smacked into the wall, and Byakuya's knees hit the floor hard enough that there would be bruises by morning. But rather than go for the ties on his hakama as Byakuya expected, Renji hauled up on one hakama leg and tugged aside his fundoshi.

Glaring up at him, Byakuya snapped, "I am not a pot for you to piss in, Abarai."

"Good, 'cause I don't plan on pissing in you," Renji replied, his hand whipping out and tangling in Byakuya's hair just as Byakuya brought his fists up and dug them, hard, into Renji's thighs.

Impasse.

For the longest moment events hung in the balance. Neither of them moved, and the only sound was the rustle of cloth and a faint babble of voices from the far training grounds.

Byakuya knew that this was the moment he should fight back properly. He was a Kuchiki, a Gotei captain, there was no reason for him to submit to this, and most certainly not at the hands of a junior officer and Rukongai gaki.

And yet he was also Byakuya, who had gone freely to his knees for this man who was not just a lieutenant and a commoner, but also his lover of half a century. Twenty-four hours apart could not erase that. Nor could a rational decision that the relationship was over. His body still craved Renji, still desired him, and when Renji's fingers tightened in his hair, Byakuya swayed forwards, burying his face where thigh met hip, palms flattening into a caress, and breathed the heady intoxicating scent of him.

Words, "Damn, ya look so good like that," and, "Fuck it, this wasn't supposed ta happen," mumbled and indistinct, burred on the outskirts of his mind, but Byakuya was beyond caring. When he felt Renji's dick slide against his cheek, he mouthed for it, finding heat and hardness and sliding his lips along it, using his tongue to wet the skin as it slipped and twitched, nudging at him as though asking for more. He gave it, willingly, luxuriating in the quiet noises Renji couldn't prevent escaping.

Hair scratched against his cheek. He rubbed against the roughness, tugging cloth further aside and folding his palm around Renji's hip, pushing against it just to feel the resistance of strong muscle and bone, and traced his tongue down inky lines. A sharp yank on his hair made him gasp in surprised arousal and he pressed his forehead briefly into layers of cloth that smelt of Renji and dust and hard work.

"Come on, quit teasing."

The grip on his hair turned his head so he was facing Renji's dick, standing tall and proud from its nest of deep red curls. Closing his thumb and forefinger around the base, he held it steady, using his tongue to ease the foreskin back, curling a lick in its place and feeling Renji grunt and shiver. It was a thrill, as it always was, to hold so much power in his hands, and the feel of it went straight to his own cock. It surged back to life, his arousal recovering all the ground it had lost thanks to Renji's uncouth behaviour. And really, despite his misgivings, there was a fascination to doing Renji this way. The cloth of Renji's hakama fell like a cloak around Byakuya's head and shoulders, enclosing him in a private world that contained only Renji. The rest of reality fell away, allowing him to disappear into taste and touch and scent in a way he was rarely able to do. Fingers tightened and loosened in his hair, guiding him into the correct rhythm and holding him there, slowly forcing him to open further and take Renji in deeper. He let it happen, for once permitting himself to go with the flow of it rather than hanging onto every scrap of control.

Fingertips traced his lips and his eyes flickered open just enough to see Renji's face past the black drape of his hakama, his expression one of captivated bliss as he gazed down, making Byakuya wonder briefly if this was the sort of show Renji would have appreciated had he ever won one of their challenges.

Renji shifting position came close to breaking his fugue, as did the foot which brushed suddenly up his inner thigh. When it crept higher, the toes gently exploring the contours of his erection through his clothing, Byakuya almost balked. The urge to thrust against it was so strong, so bestial, that for a moment it was an indignity too far, and then Renji cursed softly under his breath and Byakuya was lost again, this time beyond recall.

Lashes fluttering, he mindlessly rode the twin sensations of his mouth being thoroughly used, and the rhythmic press of Renji's foot against his dick. It should have been wrong, and yet it wasn't. It felt far too good to be anything but perfect. His hands kneaded cloth, fisting and tugging, and air whined through his nose as he fought to breathe past the pleasure. His hips began to surge and some small part of his mind observed that he was humping his fukutaichō like the basest of creatures. The thought passed unacknowledged, swamped by desire and a need for climax that was building with embarrassing alacrity. Then it was too late to wonder anything. His orgasm rushed upon him, stealing everything but the instinct that made him thrust against the rough scrape of damp cotton, that made him shiver and drive Renji's dick deeper into his throat until the ability to breathe was taken too and all he could do was soar on the thunderous wings of his release.

Renji's fingers clutched at the back of his head and through the afterglow, Byakuya registered that, rather than coming in his mouth, Renji was tugging him away. He obeyed with a ragged gasp, dropping mechanically back onto his heels, tingling hands falling lax to his knees. Vision spotty, he swayed in place, hearing rather than seeing Renji's increasingly frantic movements and trying to work out why he'd done what he had. The answer became clear a moment later when a warm spatter of come splashed across his face, though it missed his mouth by a mile, landing much higher, with his cheek, forehead and hair catching the brunt of it. He flailed, somewhat ineffectually, still slightly disorientated by the afterglow and found his hands captured by Renji's and forced to one side. He allowed it, too sated to protest, and anyway Renji was done, already adjusting his hakama and slipping his waraji back on that surprisingly clever foot.

He was lucky, Byakuya thought, as the discomfort of thoroughly sodden fundoshi began making itself known. A change of clothing was going to be essential. Perhaps Renji would find clean ones for him. It would be the least he could do since since he was at least partially to blame for the mess.

Finally feeling more like himself, Byakuya stirred and lifted his head, intending to order Renji into playing servant. Only to see the door closing, the office silent and empty.

The cool wet slide of come down his cheek made the perfect accompaniment to the fickle desertion and Byakuya swiped at his face in disgust, as much at his own pathetic behaviour as the revolting sensation. His fingers found more, up into his hair and… the kenseikan?

Sticky sliminess coated the smooth surface of the jade from one side to the other, far too much for it to be an accident. But why?

The memory of Renji's face, of his eyes, slunk back into Byakuya's mind, alongside the ambiance of his reiatsu. A contradiction written in glazed eyes and a hard mouth, in swirling arousal and steadfast intent. In retrospect, everything about him since he'd entered the office had been different, full of insolence and a strange daring, like he'd been challenging Byakuya to put him down.

And the timbre of his voice as he'd spoken, 'On your knees, Kuchiki.' Not Byakuya, nor taichō. In fact neither of those words had passed Renji's lips during all their conversation this afternoon, Byakuya now realised. Only the single 'Kuchiki'; marker of clan, nobility, and the highest standing within Soul Society and in the eyes of the Soul King.

'On your knees,' Renji had said. No, ordered. Renji, a gaki from Rukongai, demanding a noble kneel for him. The significance could not be denied.

What did Renji think he was doing? What was he going to do?

Heart pounding in his throat, Byakuya knelt and stared at the closed door, fingers still mapping the damage to the last material symbol of his nobility, and tried desperately not to fear for the future.


	12. The Eyes Have It

Why had he never been here before? More to the point, how the hell had he managed to be in Seireitei for almost half a year and not even know this place existed?

It was Byakuya's fault. Had to be. Trying to imagine Kuchiki here, rubbing shoulders with the commoners, Ichigo failed big time. It'd never happen, ever, and since Byakuya seemed hellbent on turning Ichigo into a mini version of himself, Ichigo had never been here either. Which was a shame, because there were people here, lots of them, and not just shinigami.

In fact, looking at the browns and golds and dark blues of all the casual clothing, Ichigo was feeling more and more out of place. Sure there were a few shihakushō around, but they were in the minority. And most of those with obvious reiryoku were wearing civvies. Should he have done the same? Looking back, yeah, probably. He'd dumped his escort because this was clan business and nothing to do with the Gotei, but he hadn't thought to change out of uniform. Though to be honest, except for his formal wear, he didn't have much except his shihakushō.

Now there was a depressing thought. He'd become the sad bastard who turned up to gigs in a business suit because that's all he had to wear. Damn, he needed to go clothes shopping. And without Tatsuki to help. Crap.

A big guy in dark clothing and a topknot shouldered past, rocking Ichigo back on his heels and leaving a strong whiff of alcohol in his wake. Ichigo turned to point out his lack of manners, noticed the colourful spiral of tattoos crawling up the guy's arms, and thought better of it.

That was the other thing. This area was as dodgy as all hell. The streets were more like wide alleys winding between scabby looking warehouses, and shoved up against the walls were stalls selling everything from food to…. personal services? Ichigo blinked at the three heavily made up girls in red kimono, dancing and fluttering fans at the guys crowding around the staging. Either that or it was some kind of street theatre. He couldn't tell over the noise.

That was loud, worse than central Karakura during a festival. Hawkers with trolleys and backpacks wandered through the crowds, their sing-song sales pitches rising above the general hubbub to compete with the raucous yelling from the surrounding buildings, and every now and again all of that would get drowned out by the unmistakable scream of a hollow. Nearly every corner Ichigo passed seemed to have at least one card or dice game going on, complete with wads of cash exchanging hands, and supervised by shady looking guys with too many muscles wearing outfits that looked way too similar for it to be a coincidence.

But it was different. Another world to the Kuchiki estate and the 6th, and all the other places in Seireitei that Ichigo had been. And if nothing else, some of those food stalls smelled incredible.

Could they stop to eat? He'd told Renji he'd be back around nine, so they had time.

"You hungry?" he asked Hanatarō, who was following along on his heels like a well-trained dog. Sure they had people they needed to find, but they might as well do it on full stomachs, and he'd not eaten properly since forever.

The little guy tipped his head as though thinking and then said, "Is there anyone selling dango?"

Ichigo went up on his toes to peer over the heads of the people around him, and spotted a wagon further down that looked hopeful. Of course the heaving masses between them and it would make getting there interesting. "Over there," he said, then, "Grab the back of my shihakushō and hang on tight."

As he wove his way across the flow of traffic, Ichigo wondered again if he'd done the right thing abandoning his escort back at headquarters. Having them along felt wrong somehow, and to be honest, even if Ichigo did keep getting an itchy feeling between his shoulder blades, with this many people around there wouldn't be much they could do anyway, except draw attention to him just by being there.

So far it was Hanatarō who was proving the real draw. Whenever people spotted him and recognised what he was, they took a step back to avoid him. Some even turned to go the other way. It'd make him really useful for navigating crowds, Ichigo reflected, if only he'd been a foot taller.

They emerged from the other side of the throng next to a stand that did indeed seem to be selling dango, as well as other types of wagashi, green tea, and sake of course. All the stalls seemed to be selling that, hot and cold. The grey haired woman in the pink kimono who was serving took one look at Ichigo's shihakushō and beamed, showing off a mouthful of teeth that testified to the sweetness of her confectionery. "Good evening, sir," she said, her bow making the bells in her hair ornament tinkle.

"Is there chestnut?" Hanatarō asked, peering round Ichigo.

The store-holder took one look at him and paled, her mouth dropping open in shock. Ichigo levelled a look at her, just daring her to say something. Whatever she might think of what had been done to the kid, she shouldn't be taking it out on him. "Well, have you?" he asked, not making a real effort to keep the annoyed edge out of his voice or his reiatsu.

Hanatarō shrank back against him and Ichigo could have kicked himself. Of course the kid could sense everyone around him, so he had to know that he was attracting a lot of attention. Most of it not good. It had been selfish of Ichigo to even bring him down here, but he'd needed to come and so Hanatarō had to come too.

"It doesn't matter-" Hanatarō began apologetically and that was the last straw for Ichigo.

"You want dango, you're getting dango," Ichigo told him. "Stand there, shut up, and take the dango when the lady gives it to you." He raised his eyes to glare at her. "Which is gonna be anytime now, isn't it."

"Yes, sir. Immediately, sir," she replied with a couple of bows that would've challenged Hanatarō for depth and alacrity, her hands already flying through the preparations. Two skewers of three dango each, over the grill. They'd take a couple of minutes easy to be done properly.

While they cooked, Ichigo cast a covetous eye on the stall next door. They were serving deep fried gyōza. He hadn't had any in ages and the smell was making his mouth water. The woman serving there saw him looking and raised an enquiring brow. He waved two fingers at her, hoping she understood he meant two portions and not two dumplings. Anywhere else and he could have shouted over his order, except here she'd probably not hear him over the surrounding noise.

What they needed, Ichigo thought as he waited for their food to cook, was a native guide. Someone who could tell them how to find either the boar racing or that Iba person that Fūra was looking for.

"Well, look-y look what the cat dragged in," an amused voice drawled behind them. "Poor little rich boy slumming it for the evening."

Ichigo spun, already in a half crouch and reaching for Zangetsu, an arm out across Hanatarō to keep him back out of harm's way. There, standing in a space that seemed to be being generated by the white haori he wore, was Hirako-taichō, his customary smirk plastered on his face and his long blond hair moving slightly in the evening breeze.

"What the hell do you want?" Ichigo asked, not relaxing for a moment. Where there was an Hirako, there was always a Tōsen. And there he was, moving towards them through a crowd that parted before him like scattering leaves.

In the evening light, the fukutaichō's long braided hair looked almost purple, the visor he wore more like part of a hockey mask, covering not only his eyes, but the whole of the top of his face, and wrapped several times around his neck and right shoulder was a length of orange rope that resembled a leash. As he strode towards them, his hand resting loosely on the hilt of his zanpakutō, Ichigo could feel the hostile intent radiating from him. Everything about him screamed threat, and he wasn't the most dangerous member of the 5th.

They were still missing one more…

A panicked squeak from behind him made Ichigo spin again, this time to find Hisagi perched on the front of the dango stall, leaning forwards almost past toppling point. He had one fist wrapped in the front of Hanatarō's shihakushō, and had him yanked up on his toes trying to peer under his hood. The negator was shaking like a leaf, making quiet piteous sounds, and turning his head one way and then the other trying to avoid him.

Ichigo yanked Zangetsu from his bindings and brought the massive blade down so it was pointing directly at Hisagi's head. "Tell him to get the fuck off," he snarled, remembering at the last moment what Renji had told him about the 5th's officer corps. 'Don't attack Hisagi straight up, especially if there's other people about. The guy don't give a damn about innocent bystanders and its as likely as not to end up in a blood bath. Hirako just uses him to scare people, so ask 'em to call him off. Nine times out of ten, they will.'

"Ya could ask nicely," Hirako said, his voice coming from far closer than Ichigo would have liked. He resisted the urge to shuffle sideways to avoid the guy. "Where's your escort? Kuchiki let you out of the nursery without 'em?"

"None of your damned business!" Ichigo snapped, "Now tell him to get the hell off Hanatarō before I take his fucking head off!"

To reinforce his words, he took a step forwards. Hisagi came up on his haunches, hand flashing up too fast for Ichigo to see, and grabbed the end of Zangetsu. Blood flowed from where his fingers clutched the blade, forming into a trickle than ran from his wrist onto his forearm. Hisagi ducked down, catching the drops with slurping lips and then ran his tongue up the trail, his black and gold gaze rising to meet Ichigo's over Hanatarō's shoulder as he licked, long and wet. It was obscene, just like the bloody grin he flashed at Ichigo before dropping both sword and negator and leaping clear over Ichigo's head.

Ichigo had just enough presence of mind to follow him round and saw him land at Tōsen's side and drop to one knee, head lowered beneath the fukutaichō's hand. For a second Ichigo stood and stared, aware that his breath was shakier than it should be. Fuck, Renji hadn't been kidding when he'd said they used the guy to scare people. Those eyes. Okay, they were just a hollow's eyes which he'd seen a hundred times before, but stuck in a human face like that made them a hugely more creepy. And that tongue. Was that part hollow too? It had looked far too long to be human.

He shuddered, then pulled himself together. He lowered his sword slightly and murmured, "You okay?" at Hanatarō, who'd slipped to the floor and was sat clutching his knees and shivering, his face turned towards the cloth draped stall.

The little guy nodded, but didn't try to get up just yet. Ichigo didn't blame him. Beside Hanatarō lay a heap of pink cotton. A breathing heap, Ichigo was relieved to see. It was the stall holder. She must have fainted, probably from the combined weight of his and Hisagi's reiatsu during their little face off.

The rest of the alley was empty. Except for the 5th.

It was time to face the music.

"What the hell do you want, Hirako?" Ichigo demanded. If they decided to go for him, he'd be toast, no doubts there. But if that was what they wanted, why bother with all the posturing. Ichigo didn't know much about the 5th, but what he did know said Hirako wasn't the type to go looking for a fight on the streets. He'd rather watch the ones in the pits, and put down a bet or three.

"That's Hirako-taichō to you, scum," Tōsen threw back. His voice was surprisingly rich and deep, like Byakuya's but without the effortless poise that put Byakuya's origins firmly in the nobility.

Hirako kind of sagged and glared at his lieutenant. "Oh, lighten up, Kaname. You're worse than Kuchiki." He waved a hand in Ichigo's direction. "If you scare him too much, he'll tuck tail and run, and where's the fun in that, huh?"

Ichigo's lip curled at the implied insult. He planted Zangetsu point down between his feet and said, "I'm not running anywhere. I just want to know what the hell you guys are after and why you're messing with Hanatarō." He glanced back at the negator, who hadn't moved. There was a lot of reiatsu swirling around. Was it bothering him, Ichigo wondered?

"Yeah, that's kind of Hisagi's thing," Hirako replied, and if he'd had pockets, his hands would've been shoved deep into them, Ichigo would swear it. "I reckon he gets off on the eyes connection, or something. You ask me, it's a fetish." He straightened up a bit. "So… What are you doing down here? Not really the kinda place you expect to find nobility. Unless they're looking for a bit of rough, that is." The smirk became a leer and he'd leaned forward conspiratorially. "Want me ta take Hisagi off his leash again? Let him play with you."

And okay, that should not have been hot. These guys were enemies. Ichigo was as good as alone. There was no way he could be finding the idea of going head to head with Hisagi a turn on. Except…

Ichigo's gaze flicked to Hisagi and back again, lingering just long enough to notice bare muscled arms cuffed at wrist and bicep, broad shoulders, and a strong neck. Collared. A collared neck. Fuck. What had Renji said? The collar and cuffs kept him under control. This was under control? What the hell would he be like with them taken off?

Torn between revulsion and fascination, Ichigo looked again, and this time met Hisagi's eyes. Black and gold, they gleamed in the thick evening sun, and were as calm and deep as lake water. You could drown in them so damn easily.

"He's here to see me." A harsh female voice cut through the tension like a zanpakutō through a hollow's mask, and was followed by the woman herself. Small, but powerfully built, she moved like a bulldog, head and jaw thrust out as she walked. She wore a high necked tunic in emerald green with hakama in a deeper tone, and her short dark hair was swept back off her face. A grey stripe ran down the left side just above the temple.

She barged past Hirako with a snarled, "Shift yer skinny ass, boy," and came to stand in right front of Ichigo.

He stared at her. She stared back, grey eyes intelligent and calculating. She'd said he was here to see her, and it was true that Ichigo was looking for two people at the Pits this evening, but both of them were male. Ganju, his cousin, and a guy called Iba Tetsuzaemon, who Fūra had asked him to look up when he'd poked his nose into the 10th division refugees' room on the way out this evening. Whoever this woman was, she sure as hell wasn't one of them.

But Fūra had also mentioned an Iba-neesan the other day. Ichigo decided it was a risk worth taking. He dipped a passingly respectful bow, the type reserved for elders but not betters, and said, "Iba-neesan, I'm glad I found you. Fūra Rei sends his deepest respects and asks that you be reminded of his old place in your family."

She snorted quietly, "I'll bet that's not the way he said it."

Some of Ichigo's worry faded. If she knew Fūra well enough to say that, then he'd got the right person. "He sent you a hell butterfly," he said. "But it didn't come back. I checked."

"It wouldn't have," she agreed briskly. "My idiot of a son was practising kidō and managed to blast off one of its wings. Only just got the damned message before the thing evaporated. Been trying to think of a way to get a message back to the kid ever since, but you know shinigami. Can't exactly march up and knock on the door, not unless you want to lose your head. Then tonight my boys pile back into the shed yelling about a couple of shinigami duking it out next to Saiko's, and that one of them's that new orange haired third from the 6th. And I'm thinking, hell if that's a coincidence." She peered around Ichigo. "Speaking of, she still alive?"

Kind of bemused by the whirlwind that was Fūra's sister, Ichigo glanced back at the stall keeper. "I think so. She's still breathing."

"Won't be for long," Iba-neesan retorted, pointing a bony finger at the blackened flaming mess sitting atop the grill. "That lot goes up, whole place'll follow it." She craned her neck to look around at the rest of the stalls and harrumphed loudly. "Damned shinigami, knocking people out without so much as a 'turn off all naked flames'."

Fingers jammed into her mouth, she let loose a piercing whistle, and bulky figures appeared from doorways and corners all around them, rushing to gather in a semicircle just out of easy sword's reach from Hirako. Iba stood with one fist jammed on her hip and started snapping out orders. Ichigo almost began obeying them on instinct. The woman was amazing. He'd watched Renji and Byakuya training squads of shinigami and not get any of them to hop to it so efficiently. Within moments her workforce had spread out amongst the stalls, checking for casualties and rescuing burning food.

Hirako, Ichigo noticed, hadn't moved, though both Tōsen and Hisagi were gone.

Once Iba's 'boys' were all assigned, she turned back to Ichigo. "Look to your friend, kid, then come with me. We've got business," she said, cutting a glance at Hanatarō. Then she stomped towards Hirako, announcing as she passed him, "You might as well take a hike because I know what you're gonna ask, and the answer's still no. They're not for sale."

"But Neesan!"

Ichigo, halfway through helping Hanatarō to his feet, almost dropped him again when he heard Hirako's wail. Captains in the Gotei didn't do shit like that. They were intimidating and scary, and even on a bad day, dignified. They sure as hell didn't follow middle-aged women down the road, whining about how unfair everything was. Except that was exactly what Hirako was doing. No wonder Tōsen and Hisagi had left if this was how their captain normally behaved around Iba. Talk about embarrassing.

Stopping just long enough to check Hanatarō was okay, which he was although still a bit wobbly, Ichigo set off after the pair. In some ways he didn't have much of a choice. He didn't have an answer for Fūra yet, and couldn't really go back without one, but even if that hadn't been the case, hell hounds couldn't have dragged him away from watching this show.

"Not for sale," Iba was saying as he got within earshot, her stride as unrelenting as her expression.

Hirako hopped alongside her, hair and haori flapping. "But think of the possibilities! Publicity! Fame! Fortune!"

"For you, you mean," Iba retorted with an unimpressed snort.

"For us both!" When she totally ignored him and kept walking, Hirako tried again. "Okay, okay, I can see you don't want to sell. How about lease to own? Rental?" She was getting further ahead and he seemed to be getting desperate. A hop and half-skip and he was back with her again, hands waving as he said, "I know! Let's team up! I'll bring The Kid, you bring The Twins. Between us, we'll sweep the floor with-"

She stopped finally and turned, hands on hips. Her glare fit to melt glass. Hirako quailed before it but still managed to look hopeful and excited at the same time. It was impressive, Ichigo had to admit. Even Keigo hadn't managed that many expressions at one time.

"You already owe me 50,000, Hirako," she said. "First payment's due a week Friday. Don't forget it, or the boys'll be round to collect." As she said the last she began walking again, and this time Hirako didn't bother to follow her. His shoulders drooped as he stared balefully after her.

Not one to waste an opportunity to mock, Ichigo wandered up beside him, making no attempt to hide his smug grin. "Hell of a woman," he said.

"She's a stone cold bitch," Hirako sighed, and then added with an even deeper one, "If she was two hundred years younger, I'd propose tomorrow."

"What?" That wasn't the answer Ichigo was expecting. Death threats and lamentations maybe. Marriage? No.

Hirako turned a clever eye on him. "You've no clue who she is, do you, boy?" he said. His grin flashed wide. "If I was feeling kind, I'd tell you, but I think I'll let you find out for yourself. See you around, Shiba-kun." And he was gone.

Shuffling steps beside him drew Ichigo's attention to back Hanatarō. He glanced down at the little negator. His shihakushō was covered in streaks of dust and mud from where he'd been on the ground, and his hands where they gripped his sleeves were still shaking. "Hey, I'm really sorry about all this," Ichigo said to him. "We'll be done soon and then we can go." And next time he'd find some way around the rules so he didn't have to drag Hanatarō along.

"Please don't apologise, Kurosaki-sama," the kid replied and his voice sounded distant, like he was in shock. "It's all my fault. I just didn't expect my first trip outside to be quite so exciting."

"Outside?" Ichigo repeated as the street around them began to fill with people again, some sixth sense telling them the fireworks were over. He cast a wary eye around for any other surprises before turning his attention back to Hanatarō. "What d'you mean, 'outside'?"

The kid cocked his head, his hood sliding far enough back that Ichigo could see marks on the strange skin that covered his face. From where Hisagi had grabbed him, Ichigo realised. He was just about to ask Hanatarō if he was sure he was okay, when Iba-neesan's voice rang down the street, "Hey, orange-boy, you want to do business or what?"

* * *

Night had fallen properly by the time they reached their destination, but the whole area was lit up with a combination of lanterns strung between buildings, braziers and kidō, casting everything in flickering reds and golds. The Shed, which was where they ended up, turned out to be a large izakaya sandwiched between two warehouses, both of which had queues of people outside waiting to get in. The wait staff seemed to regard everyone as customers, inside and out, so the front doors of the place were in constant motion as they ran in and out carrying trays of drinks and plates of food.

Inside it was surprisingly empty and, relatively speaking, peaceful. One half of the space was divided into smaller alcoves blocked off with bamboo blinds, several with raised floors and private fire pits. The rest was a more public area that had the usual scattering of low tables and, for some surreal reason, a pool table in the far corner.

Iba-neesan led them in that direction, guiding them around a screen into a private seating area that turned out to be decorated with beautiful wall hangings, curtains and silk cushions. Ichigo felt bad about going in there, since he wasn't exactly clean and tidy even after leaving his sandals by the door. But she wouldn't be told no.

"Sit," she said, pointing at cushions that Byakuya wouldn't have dismissed as trash.

Letting Hanatarō go first, Ichigo followed him in, removing Zangetsu from his back and leaning it against the wall between them. Sure it looked dumb, but at least he'd be able to grab it in a hurry if he needed to.

The drinks arrived next. Sake, of course. Ichigo stared at the bottle and bowls with some trepidation. He really did not want to drink, not after last night. He kind of remembered Renji pouring him into bed and waking up a couple of hours later needing to puke. None of it had been fun. Plus, he still hadn't eaten.

On the other hand, he didn't think he was going to get away with turning it down.

"Tell me about Fūra," Iba-neesan said, as she poured herself and him a drink. None for Hanatarō, Ichigo noted, and considered complaining before deciding not to. One of them ought to stay sober, and it didn't look like it was going to be him.

He picked up his drink and sipped carefully, knowing from the way it made his lips tingle that it was strong stuff. Was she trying to get him drunk? Maybe following her here hadn't been such a good idea after all. He glanced around surreptitiously over the top of his bowl, counting heads and calculating angles. There were at least three guys watching this alcove alone, positioned far enough apart that taking them out at the same time would be impossible. Not to mention Iba herself. She was giving out a fair whack of reiryoku. And Ichigo's bakudō wasn't anywhere near good enough to immobilise them all. Which meant any attempt to force their way out was going to leave Hanatarō vulnerable to a counterattack. Not an acceptable risk. So, Ichigo decided, he'd just have to find another way of surviving this.

Remembering his manners would probably be a good place to start.

He put his drink back on the table, folded his hands in front of him and said, "I'm sorry, I don't know Fūra very well. I'm just the follow-up guy." And the one who'd promised to find them somewhere to go.

Iba narrowed her eyes. "So it wasn't you who took him back to the 6th?"

"Er…" Ichigo havered. It probably wasn't a good idea to make a big deal of it in public, not after the trial. But he didn't want to lie either. Something in those sharp grey eyes told him that would be a mistake. He settled on, "We didn't do much. They'd already got themselves out. We just gave them a place to stay till they got sorted."

She nodded along as he spoke and, when he finished, said merely, "If that's the way you want to play it." For a moment she sat in silence, staring at her drink which she was turning round and round in her hands. "He's my sister's boy," she said finally. "Between you and me, he's an idiot. Always wanted to be a shinigami. Family business wasn't good enough for him. Thought he was some hotshot, so he went and left us all behind. Ungrateful brat's not even spoken to his mother for a century, and now it's come back to bite him on the ass and he wants bailing out." She glanced up at Ichigo, eyes narrowing. "If he was yours, what'd you do?"

It was a test, that much was obvious. The knee-jerk reaction was to say, 'he's family, you take him back unconditionally.' But Ichigo made himself stop and think. This wasn't his family. This wasn't the living world. This was Soul Society, where things like 'friend' and 'family' came a poor second to power and influence. From what Iba-neesan had just said, Fūra had broken away from his family to chase that. Abandoned them, basically, for a chance at making it in the Gotei 13. And that had failed. Now he was alone and desperate.

Ichigo lifted his head and looked at Iba, at her impassive face and steely eyes. He gazed around the bar, at the guys with the tattoos and the muscles, and the girls with the pretty kimono and painted faces. He thought about how sure Fūra was that Tetsuzaemon would come through for him, and how he still felt about his dad despite everything he might or might not have done. And really there was only one answer.

"I'd let him come home," he said, and then qualified it with, "though he might get whatever your equivalent is of grounding for a month and having to wash the dishes."

The smile that graced Iba's face made her look like a different woman. It softened all her hard edges and turned her from chill winter into a rosy spring. She reached out and patted his hand. "I like you, boy," she said. "You understand what's important."

It made Ichigo feel about twelve again and he could feel the blush rushing up his cheeks. In self-defence, he picked up his drink and took another sip, and then another. The fumes filled his nose, making his eyes water. He put it down again quickly, smothering a cough and hoping Iba-neesan hadn't noticed. She hadn't. She was busy gesturing to someone, one of the waitresses apparently, who hurried over.

"Tell Tetsu I want to speak him," Iba said, and the waitress bowed and scurried away again, out through a door the other side of the pool table.

A moment later a man emerged from the back, big with cropped dark hair and a moustache. If it wasn't for his eyes, which were the exact same shade of grey as his mother's, Ichigo wouldn't have thought them related. He came and stood beside the table, and dipped a shallow bow to Iba.

Rather than speak to him, Iba turned back to Ichigo. "My son will collect Fūra in the morning. You can arrange for that to happen?"

If he skipped out on another day of training, Renji would kill him. But there were other options. Ichigo addressed his answer to Tetsuzaemon rather than his mom. "I'm not gonna be there, so ask at the gate for Sagara Hisana. She'll make sure Fūra gets out to you in one piece." She would as well. Byakuya had given the 10thers protected status and she was the type who played by the rules. This time Ichigo could get them to work for him.

The big guy stared at him for a second and then nodded. "Thanks," he said. "It'll be good to have him home. He makes the best mochi."

"That he does," Iba-neesan agreed with a nod, though her features suddenly tightened. She cut a look at Ichigo. "There's a debt owed for this whether you think so or not." She waved away Ichigo's immediate protest that no, there wasn't and it really honestly didn't matter. He hadn't done it for that… "And the Iba pay their debts," she said in a tone that wasn't to be argued with. Ichigo took the hint, shut up and listened.

"You're a Shiba," she stated after a moment. It wasn't a question, so Ichigo didn't bother trying to answer. It was obvious she knew the truth. What she said next stole his ability to do anything but blink anyway. "Urahara Kisuke is said to have something of yours. Someone. There's no details, only a rumour, and a vague one at that. But it's good, I'm sure. Came from a solid source." She placed her hand, palm down, flat on the table between them. "This repays half the debt. You have the right to call on the family once more before we're even. Now I have other business. But you're welcome to stay, eat, drink." She rose, their business apparently concluded.

Ichigo scrambled to his feet as well, mind in a whirl at her news. Someone of his? Karin? Yuzu? No, that was impossible. They were definitely safe. His dad then? Had Urahara got him out of jail somehow?

"I'll send someone to escort you home when you're finished," Iba-neesan was saying and the implications of that finally penetrated Ichigo's flailing thoughts.

"Actually," he said, before he could stop himself. "I need to find my cousin."

Iba raised an eyebrow at him, and then turned to her son. "Tetsu?"

"I'll ask around and get back to you," he said, taking over and ushering them through the public area of the bar. "Ganju's a pretty well known face. Someone'll know where he is." He led them towards another alcove with comfortable looking sitting cushions. The table was over the fire pit making a grill for barbecue and Ichigo's stomach rumbled.

Just before he sat down, he glanced back just in time to see two figures slipping past the screen into Iba-neesan's 'office'. The first, a guy going by his huge size, disappeared too quick for Ichigo to see any details, but the other was a woman. As dark-skinned as Yoruichi, she looked fitter that your average shinigami in her form-fitting black and white outfit and heavy knee-high boots. Iba-neesan's 'other business' presumably.

And then Tetsuzaemon produced the menu and Ichigo had other things to think about.

* * *

It was all Ichigo could do not to make happy noises as dish after dish arrived and he finally had a chance to fill his empty belly.

That was one of the oddities of being in Soul Society that he'd never really got his head around properly. Sure, he got hungry like he used to, really hungry, but even if he skipped meals for a whole day, he never ended up light-headed or nauseous like he would have done when he was alive, though his reiryoku levels didn't pick up as quick he noticed. The flip side of the same thing was that when food was available, he could pack away three times the amount he used to and still not feel stuffed. In a lot of ways it was brilliant, especially when he was somewhere decent. Like this place.

Though the trouble with eating was that it left his mind free to grind away on the information Iba-neesan had given him, and much as he wanted what she'd said to make sense, no matter how many times he reran it, it didn't.

'One of his', she'd said. It couldn't be his dad. If Isshin had escaped from jail, Byakuya would know, and despite their recent fight, Byakuya would have told him, Ichigo was sure of that much. So that scenario was right out.

The only other person he could think of was Chad. He'd mentioned him to Renji when they'd been in the living world and he guessed it as just possible someone had overheard them. Either that or Urahara had got a hold of him by accident and the connection to Ichigo was just a coincidence. Or maybe it was some other Shiba. Someone Ichigo didn't know, but was still family.

And what was Ichigo supposed to do with the information anyway? Urahara wasn't exactly likely to answer if Ichigo just upped and asked him, not honestly anyway. Plus Ichigo didn't want to be anywhere near the guy. He made monsters. He might be making a monster out of someone Ichigo knew right now. The thought made Ichigo shudder.

Iba-neesan probably told him so he could rescue them, Ichigo thought a bit dazedly. From the 2nd division… from Yoruichi-sama and the ninjas… from Urahara and his bankai.

Except if Ichigo was in the business of performing impossible rescues, his dad should be top of the list and-

Argh!

Ichigo snagged another portion of meat, slapped it on the grill, and grabbed the best cooked one for himself. Chewing with fierce deliberation, he forcibly yanked his thoughts away from rescues and rumours that he couldn't do anything about, and turned his attention to his meal companion instead. Hanatarō seemed to be enjoying his food as much as Ichigo was. True, he was eating much slower and there was hardly anything in his chopsticks each time they vanished under his hood, but he was working his way through his portion like a good little soldier.

Watching him reminded Ichigo of the conversation they hadn't had a chance to finish. He swallowed his mouthful, pointed his chopsticks at the kid, and said, "What did you mean earlier about this being your first trip 'outside'?"

Hanatarō raised his head, chopsticks pausing halfway to his mouth, and when he spoke, he sounded quite happy. "Well, I suppose it's my second really, if I count going to the 6th as the first, but you could argue that since I've not been home, they're all the same trip and so this is still my first."

Ichigo stared at him, wondering what the hell to do with that information. If he was saying what Ichigo thought he was saying, no wonder he'd been terrified of Hisagi. "Are you saying that before today you'd never left the 8th division grounds?" he asked finally.

A bob of Hanatarō's hood told Ichigo he was on the right track. "That's right. Since I was brought in from the camps, that is. And I don't really remember that very well."

Thank fuck for that, Ichigo thought. He'd rather hoped the kid didn't remember anything at all from his past life. That would've been beyond cruel. Though he guessed that, unless you wanted some kind of idiot savant, you'd have to hang on to enough memories to make the negator functional.

He shuddered, turning his mind from mad-scientist experiments. "Seriously? Never been out?"

"I used to sit on the wall and watch people go past," Hanatarō said, "That was fun. And the 8th is very beautiful in its own way. There are gardens behind the main buildings, you know. Kyōraku-taichō…"

Hanatarō's words tailed off as a small hand shoved the bamboo screen aside and a light female voice said, "Tetsu says you're looking for Shiba Ganju." The speaker looked up and stopped in her tracks. "You," she said. Dark eyes that had widened at the sight of Ichigo, narrowed to a familiar glare, and she added, "You know what? Forget it."

The screen dropped just as Ichigo yelped, "Karin?" By the time he'd scrambled out of the alcove, she was vanishing through the front door. "Damn it," he cursed, spinning in a frustrated circle. He should go after her, find out what the hell she was doing in this part of town, in civvies, and alone. But Hanatarō couldn't shunpo and he'd never catch up without it. He'd take the kid with him, but fuck knew where they might end up and Hanatarō'd already had one hell of an evening. On the other hand, less than two hours ago Ichigo had promised not to go anywhere without him.

But this was Karin.

He turned to Hanatarō. "Just… stay right here," he said, gesturing with both hands that the negator should remain sat down. "I'll…" He glanced towards the door and saw it closing, "I'll be right back, I promise."

With, "Yes, Kurosaki-sama," echoing in his ears, Ichigo sprinted out of the izakaya, skidding to a halt outside and looking frantically right and left for any sign of his sister. Nothing.

Could she shunpo? Ichigo realised he had no idea. All he really knew about Karin's abilities was that they were good enough to get her a seated officer's position. Beyond that he hadn't a clue.

"Damn it," he snarled again, stomping down the steps onto the street and getting out of the main thoroughfare. He was never going to find her like this. He needed to stop reacting and start acting. He might not know Karin's abilities but he knew Karin, knew her soul, her reiryoku. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves, closed his eyes and reached out. If she was close, he would sense her. If she'd shunpo'd, she would have left a trail.

There!

Ichigo opened his eyes, orientated himself for a split second and then stepped into shunpo after her. She was heading south central, towards the 1st, not the 6th as he'd expected her to. And, he realised after a minute of two, either she was crap at shunpo or she was going slow on purpose. The second, he decided, after he slowed down a little and she did too. She wasn't trying to lose him, just lead him somewhere.

The where became obvious a few minutes later. The Sōkyoku Hill; about the only place in Seireitei where you could almost guarantee being able to have a private conversation without eavesdroppers listening in. Plus it had the added benefit of being avoided by a lot of shinigami. For them it was a place of punishment, where executions, beatings and sealings were carried out. And although Ichigo knew that was what went on there, he'd never seen any of those things for himself, and so, as far as he was concerned, it was still just a freaking huge hill in the middle of Seireitei with a gravitationally unlikely overhang and a small wood on top of it.

It was that wood that Karin headed towards. Ichigo followed her, keeping his distance until she stopped and waited for him. Even then he landed some distance away and made the final approach at walking speed. He didn't know what he'd done to make her like this, but he didn't want to screw up and set her off again.

She was standing at the edge of a clump of ghostly trees, arms wrapped around herself, staring out over Seireitei. Her pale green kosode glowed in the moonlight, russet brown hakama turned to inky black. The gold flowered ornament that gathered her hair off her face no more than a vague highlight that moved as she breathed.

He trod the final few steps and came to stand beside her. Seireitei spread out below them, beautiful as always from this distance; far enough away to miss its ugliness and despair. They stood in silence as the minutes passed. Ichigo closed his eyes and let the breeze stir his clothes and hair, letting his mind drift to simpler times and places. Karakura Town and friends, family and a life.

"Do you miss it?" he asked out of the blue and then felt totally stupid for doing so.

Karin snorted, shot a quick glare up at him, and said, "What do you think?"

He didn't bothering answering that. Instead he said, "I'd be cramming for the admission's exam about now. Not sure I'm missing that." He hadn't even really known what he wanted to do with his life. Become a doctor maybe, like uncle Ryūken? If he had, it might have taken the pressure off Uryū, let him enrol at a design school like he'd wanted to. Not that it had mattered in the long run.

"Yuzu," Karin said. "I miss Yuzu."

Ichigo frowned down at her. "You go see her, don't you?" If anyone was stopping her, he'd be having words. And so would Unohana-taichō. She'd made it clear from the get go that Karin was allowed to visit anytime she wanted.

Another glare. And then a deep and heartfelt sigh. "You wouldn't understand," Karin said.

Not if she didn't tell him, but the instinct to reassure her was too strong to resist. "Everything'll be fine," Ichigo said, "I'll fix it. You'll see."

This glare lasted longer and was even more deadly. Braver men than Ichigo would have quailed. He held himself to a nervous swallow. Finally she looked away again, and growled, "God, you're so like _him_."

At a guess, that'd be dad. Ichigo waited for an explanation.

Silence reigned for a full minute, and then Karin began to speak, her voice quiet and tense. "You know, this time yesterday I was up to my elbows in blood trying to hold Miko's guts in after a Hollow took our squad by surprise. I should have been been fighting. Out of all of us, I have the highest spiritual pressure. But they won't let me because Kuchiki-taichō has made it clear that if I ever get hurt, he'll be very upset. So I'm always safe, at the back. They managed to take it down eventually but one of the squad, Ginba, lost his right arm in the fight.

"Our medics, and the guys at the 4th, they're good, but they can't replace an arm, and Ginba's not lucky like us. He's from Rukongai, so he doesn't have a clan to keep him in Seireitei." She turned haunted eyes on Ichigo. "This morning he chose the tanto rather than risk a medical discharge. Shoshine, his best friend, was his second. I wasn't there because nobody told me before it happened. They didn't want to upset me."

Fuck. Ichigo ground the heel of his hand into his forehead. He hadn't meant for her to end up the weak-link in a squad when he'd asked Byakuya to make sure she was kept safe in the field. But he couldn't regret asking him, not for a second. If her squad hadn't pushed her to the back, it might have been Karin who'd lost an arm. Or worse. She was his little sister; it was and always would be his job to protect her, even when he couldn't be there to do it himself.

But if she knew, she didn't seem mad at him for it, just gutted that her squad mate had killed himself.

He was obviously still missing something. God, where was Tatsu when he needed her. She never had any trouble making sense of his sisters. Ichigo tried again, putting every ounce of sincerity into his voice that he could muster. "Okay, I get that you're pissed, but I have no clue what I've done to make you so mad at _me_ and I want to fix it. I don't want you hating me."

This time he got a more calculating look, then she sighed with a huge amount of irritation. Ichigo glanced nervously at her, waiting for a punch or a kick. When none arrived, he let himself relax. Slightly.

After a moment or two, she said, "Were you ever gonna tell me that you and Renji are making a run on the 9th in the next couple of weeks?"

Ichigo choked and stared at her in shock. "How the hell did you find that out?" he demanded.

She gave him a 'well, duh,' look. "It doesn't matter, I just want to know if you were going to tell me."

"Eventually," he replied. And he would have, once they'd successfully taken the 9th and everything was sorted out.

"And what if you'd been killed? Or caught?" she asked in a quiet voice.

This was going somewhere. Ichigo just couldn't work out where yet. "Erm…" he said, "I guess Byakuya would have told you?"

The way her eyes cut to the side told Ichigo he'd identified where her information had come from. At least they didn't have a security leak in the division. But, was this why she'd been brought back from the living world? Some kind of 'family bonding time' before he went off to the 9th? A chance to say goodbye and good luck? Arranging that and not telling the relevant parties would be a very Byakuya thing to do. Shit.

"What about after?" she said.

After? Ichigo stared at her in confusion until she huffed and smacked him hard round the head. He didn't try and duck. He knew better than to do that.

"Were you expecting me to stay at the 6th or were you gonna offer me a place at the 9th?"

Oh! "Erm…" He hadn't actually thought that far ahead. Though now she mentioned it. "I guess we would have offered you a place in a couple of years if everything went okay." But not before. He didn't want his sister anywhere near the upheaval caused by a change of captaincy, even if he and Renji were aiming to make it as peaceful as possible.

"Once it was safe," Karin said, her expression deadpan.

"Well, yeah." Obvious statement was obvious. "I'd never-" he began only to get cut off when she looked up at him again and said, "At least Kuchiki-taichō is honest."

Now he was completely lost. He didn't think Karin had much to do with the captain. Actually, considering what he'd been doing with Byakuya, he'd kind of hoped she hadn't. "What's he got to do with any of this?"

"Nothing, except that he doesn't treat me like a freaking mushroom." She sounded furious.

It was time to throw himself on the sacrificial pyre. "Karin, you're just gonna have to use small words, pretend I'm stupid-" The bitter bark of laughter he got wasn't exactly the effect he'd been going for, but he guessed it was better than nothing.

He changed his mind when she began speaking again, and this time her voice was anything but calm or quiet. Her eyes flashed as she snapped, "That day in the arena, I knew what Kurotsuchi was going to do to me if he'd won," she said. "Because Kira told us. Kira! You didn't say a word! If Kuchiki-taichō had lost and Kira hadn't told us, I wouldn't even have known to fight that creep! I had to go to the captain to get a proper answer. He listened to me. He treated me like a person, not something to be kept in the dark and fed bullshit!"

She was really shouting now, and Ichigo had never seen his sister so mad. It was terrifying, on so many levels, because none of this had ever occurred to him. He'd just tried to protect her and instead he'd pushed her away and isolated her. Crap, he really was a fuck up of a big brother.

"I've had it, Ichi-nii," she continued, though now her voice was quieter and she'd turned away. Even so, Ichigo could see the tears in her eyes, wet in the moonlight "Dad got us killed trying to protect us. You almost did the same. If you can't be honest with me, then you're not the big brother I thought I had."

She was right. Somehow, despite dealing with this shit everyday himself, he'd managed to forget that she was a shinigami as well, and that just like dying had changed all the rules for him, it'd done the same for her.

"I'm sorry," he blurted, "I was-"

"If you say you were only trying to protect me, I swear I will kick you off this hill," she growled, hands fisted at her sides.

He had been, but he guessed that wasn't acceptable anymore. But she couldn't expect him to just stop. She was his little sister. He sighed, folding his arms and dropping his chin to his chest, thinking. Maybe there was a way. "I swore when you and Yuzu were born that I'd be a good big brother to you. For me that's always meant looking after you. Keeping you safe. I get that you don't want to be treated like a kid anymore. I screwed up there. You definitely deserve to be told stuff straight and not lied to." No wonder Karin had been avoiding him, he'd still been treating her like a High School student.

"So," he continued, "I can't stop trying to keep you out of danger-" She made an unhappy sound. Ichigo spoke over her, "but how about if I promise to be honest about the things that are dangerous, so you've got a chance to protect yourself as well."

She subsided a bit, the anger slowly seeping from her body. After a moment or two, she kind of grunted, scuffed her toe into the dirt and said, "And I get to kick your ass if you don't?"

Ichigo held out his hand. "Pinky swear."

"Idiot!" she huffed, but linked fingers anyway. Squeezing hard, and then harder still, until Ichigo flinched. She smirked, did it one more time, and then let him go. "I still hate you," she said.

"Yeah, I know," Ichigo replied, giving her a small smile, and trying to rub some feeling back into his little finger. "I hate you too."

They stood together in silence then, Ichigo painfully aware that he had about an hour before Renji started combing the streets for him, and that he'd abandoned Hanatarō alone in the Pits. But this was his sister. He didn't want to leave until they'd reconnected properly.

After a minute or two, Karin sat down, tucking her knees under her chin and hugging them. Ichigo removed Zangestu from his back, and joined her on the ground, saying, "What were you doing in that place anyway?"

"You mean Iba-neesan's bar?" she asked defensively. "What else am I gonna do with my evenings, Ichi-nii? Hang around in the barracks like a sad sack feeling bad about being dead?"

Well, mostly the subject hadn't crossed his mind. But on the odd occasion it had, he'd kind of imagined her sitting and reading, maybe talking with friends…. braiding hair… painting nails.

Fuck, he'd been imagining Karin's life a one long sleep over. What the hell was wrong with him?

On the other hand, The Shed was a bar, in the shadiest part of Seireitei. And that was where she hung out on her evenings off?

"Yes, no," he growled, shaking his head, trying to get his thoughts into some kind of functioning order that wasn't, 'Karin's a delinquent. Oh fuck, mum and dad are gonna kill me.' "That area. The Pits."

She looked at him askance. "Because it's the only place in Seireitei you can get a decent meal and have a bit of fun. I've been on living world assignment for three weeks. I wanted to have a drink, put my feet up, party a bit."

"Drink?" Ichigo squeaked. "You… drink?"

"Just amazake or tea, idiot, I'm not stupid," she replied rolling her eyes at him.

Ichigo's gut hit his feet and bounced with relief; his little sister hadn't become a complete hooligan on his watch. But she had grown up. When the hell had she done that? He'd seen her only a few days ago at the investiture and he hadn't noticed anything different then.

Probably because you were too busy to notice anything about her at all, a snarky voice in his head pointed out. Did you even look at her?

Had he? She'd been wearing even dumber clothes than his, he remembered that much. And her hair'd had gold flowers in it. The same ones she was wearing now, actually. They might have spoken, a couple of times. But he hadn't a clue what she'd said. It hadn't seemed important, not with all the other stuff he'd had to worry about.

Crap, he really was a lousy big brother.

"What do you need Ganju for anyway?" Karin said suddenly.

Taken by surprise, Ichigo floundered for a moment. Then he remembered that she'd actually been sent to them by Tetsuzaemon. "Hang on," he said, "You know where Ganju hangs out?"

"Well, yeah," she replied, with a 'duh' expression on her face. "He's our cousin. Of course I know."

I didn't! Ichigo wanted to protest, but he was rapidly realising that his little sister was way ahead of him when it came to the underbelly of Soul Society. While he'd been breathing the heady air of clan politics and division captains, she'd been grubbing around in the ranks, rubbing shoulders with the guys who knelt to Ichigo and called him sir.

And with knowledge like that, she was the perfect person to ask for help.

"I have a problem," he said, and outlined the need to find placements for the one remaining refugee from the 10th.

Karin listened attentively, not batting an eyelid as he spoke and when he finished, she continued to sit silently for the longest time. Her fingers dug in the dust between them and she periodically unearthed small stones that she tossed towards the edge of the cliff. Eventually she said, "Shin's gonna be difficult, you know that, right?"

Ichigo frowned at her. "Why?"

She canted her head to look at him, scraping her hair back off her face with one hand. Her expression was deadly serious. "You really don't know?"

Nerves churned in Ichigo's gut. "Did he do something to you?"

"Me?" Karin laughed lightly before sobering again. "No, but he was a sneak for Ōtoribashi." At Ichigo's confused frown, she added, "An informant. If anyone did or said anything against the captain, he reported them and they'd get punished. Actually I'm kind of surprised the guys he's sharing with haven't lynched him. Maybe he's paying them off?"

Ichigo thought about the odd dynamic he'd sensed amongst the three guys stuck in that small room together and decided she might be right. It'd explain a lot, especially Shin's resignation about not finding anywhere to go. "Push comes to shove I'll take him," he said. "He might be a snitch but no way I'm throwing him out there for the 12th to pick up."

Karin shuddered and Ichigo was forcibly reminded yet again that Karin had been facing that same future if Byakuya hadn't managed to defeat Kurotsuchi that day. Ichigo hadn't even noticed if she'd been upset afterwards. He'd been too bothered about losing Yuzu and the fact that both Renji and Byakuya were injured. And then he'd effectively ended up in charge of the division. One of the most terrifying moments of his life had been when Koniwa had come and prostrated himself at Ichigo's feet and begged 'Shiba-sama' to protect the captain until he was well enough to defend himself again.

He hadn't spared a thought for Karin during all that. Crap, no wonder she hadn't been speaking to him.

"Sorry," he said again, feeling lower than a worm. "I guess I've really screwed up lately, huh."

Shrugging, Karin huffed, "Like I said, forget it. It's not like you were there all the time when we were alive either."

Apparently it was a night for cold hard truths. An uncomfortable silence fell again, and Ichigo was just about to give the whole thing up as impossible when he sensed something. He was moving and dragging Karin with him before he thought about it, flattening them both to the ground and holding still and silent as a horribly familiar reiryoku passed within twenty yards of them. Karin gripped his sleeve, but made no effort to pull his arm away or escape.

The reiryoku headed downward, and then somehow seemed to be muted before fading away completely. Once it was definitely completely gone, Ichigo released Karin and rolled onto his back. "That was-" he began only for Karin to finished for him, "Urahara Kisuke."

They exchanged worried looks. "There's been rumours," she said, a bit nervously.

It was Ichigo's turn to complete the thought. "That he's got someone we know," he said.

Karin nodded, then got to her hands and knees and crawled to the edge of the cliff, dropping back to her belly when she got there and peering over. Ichigo joined her. "I saw him here the other day," he said.

"Yeah," she nodded. "He comes here a lot, so I've heard." At Ichigo's frown, she shrugged, "I started asking around when I heard the rumours. I thought maybe if I had some evidence you'd…" She shook her head, not bothering to finish the sentence.

Ichigo finished it for her, silently. 'Believe her. Take her seriously. Not dismiss her like some stupid kid.' Damn it all to hell, it was going to take more than a simple apology and a promise to fix this. But now wasn't the time to be worrying about it.

The clouds cleared as he strained his eyes into the darkness and he spotted what looked like a small outcropping tucked behind several bushes. From above it would like nothing but a collection of brave bushes growing on the sheer cliff face, but from here, the shadow of it was obvious. He shook Karin's arm and pointed, only for them both to freeze as a dark clad figure appeared on it apparently from nowhere, along with that same reiryoku, paused to look around for a moment, and then hopped off down the cliff face like a demented mountain goat and vanish in a flit of shunpo.

"Cave?" Ichigo whispered. Rock was good at concealing reiryoku, which was why so many hollows chose to lair in them. It would explain why Urahara's reiryoku had come and gone the way it had.

"Maybe," Karin replied, and then she was slithering over the edge before Ichigo had a chance to stop her. He followed her over and they both dropped silently onto the outcropping. Sure enough, tucked behind the bushes was a small cave entrance covered by a rough wooden door. Ichigo pressed his ear to it for a second, heard nothing from inside, and eased it slowly open.

It was pitch black inside. If they were going to see a thing, they were going to need light. Ichigo began gathering his reiryoku for a kidō only for Karin to hiss and drag him into the cave by the arm. "Idiot," she whispered, "you'll be able see a light from miles away up here! Wait till the door's closed." As Ichigo was feeling a complete moron for not thinking of that, she eased the door shut, leaving them in utter inky blackness. "Now you can do it."

The light didn't tell them much. The cave they were in was small and rough hewn, and contained nothing more exciting than a bedroll that looked like it hadn't been slept in for a century. There was dust on everything.

Except one corner of the mat the bedroll was laid out on. Ichigo lifted it up and yup, there underneath was a trapdoor! He eased the mat back further to reveal a handle, put a hand on it and hesitated.

"What are you waiting for?" Karin whispered.

"We can't close it behind us," he replied, "or re-cover the door. If Urahara comes back, we'll be trapped." Which would be bad enough if it was just him. But Karin was here as well. He should send her back to the 6th, where she'd be safe. Maybe grab Renji-

A sandal to the head sent him sprawling sideways. The kidō flashed and went out, and when Karin spoke her voice sounded warped in the darkness. "When did you turn into such a coward!" she hissed. "The Ichi-nii I remember never would have let that stop him!"

"Shut up!" he snarled back. "You don't understand!"

"You're worried about me. About Yuzu. About us getting hurt if you do something. Well, screw that! If Iba-neesan is right, there's someone important to our family down there and if you're not gonna rescue them, then I will!"

She grabbed the trapdoor and wrenched it open. Daylight streamed up out of it, like someone had opened the door on a bright sunny day. Ichigo blinked, confused. How was that even possible?

And it wasn't just light that was pouring from the open trapdoor. There was another reiryoku signature. Very faint, but oddly familiar, although Ichigo would swear he'd never felt it before.

He and Karin dropped through the entrance together, landing in a space that couldn't exist. For one thing, it was vast, far too big to see the walls, though that could just be an illusion, Ichigo guessed. Tall rocky crags dotted the landscape everywhere, along with dead trees and bushes, and the impossibly high ceiling was painted bright sky blue complete with white fluffy clouds. It looked more like something out of an American Western than anywhere Ichigo had ever seen in Soul Society. And all of it was deep inside the Sōkyoku Hill.

The faint reiryoku signature came from behind a large outcropping. Ichigo managed to get ahead of Karin, using a step or two of shunpo to reach the other side, and then stopped in his tracks. On the far side, inside a cage made of stone and metal, slumped someone Ichigo had never expected to run into again; his uncle, Ishida Ryūken.

"Ji-chan!" Karin shot past Ichigo, dropping to her knees in front of the cell and immediately homed in on the lock securing the mesh. Some stunned part of Ichigo's mind noted that the whole thing looked just like a giant pet carrier. For a person.

For his uncle.

Who _was _dead. They'd never known for sure. Missing was the official verdict. No bodies had ever been found, just Ryūken's car abandoned next to a river. After that, people were bound to assume things. As far as Ichigo knew, the police were still going through the hospital finances trying to find some kind of fraud.

Murder/suicide had been most people's guesses, but Ichigo had never believed that of his uncle. And nor had the rest of the family.

"Karin?" Ryūken said. His voice sounded rough, as though all the cigarettes he smoked had finally caught up with him and when he moved his actions were too careful and painfully slow. He glanced briefly Karin, and then past her at Ichigo, and then behind them both, for Yuzu maybe, or Isshin? "You're alone?" he asked, and his hand when he reached for the mesh, shook.

"Yuzu's at the 4th, Dad's in jail," Ichigo said, venturing a little closer, though still keeping his distance. There was something about all of this that made his skin crawl. And not just the fact that his uncle was in a cage. There was a strange vibe around the place, like something eating away at his reiryoku. Some kind of kidō? "Ojii-san," he asked suspiciously, "what are you doing here?"

"You're hurt," Karin said, ignoring Ichigo like he hadn't said a thing, and when Ryūken spoke, it was to discount both their questions and ask one of his own.

"Where is he?" he demanded, the borderline frantic edge to his voice putting Ichigo even more on alert. Uncle Ryūken didn't sound like that, he was cool and distant and dismissive of anything trivial like emotions.

"Who?" Ichigo asked tentatively, his bad feeling just getting worse.

"Uryū," Ryūken replied. Somehow he'd got himself to his knees. His hands clutched the mesh and he seemed oblivious to Karin kneeling in front of him. Apparently she'd given up on the lock, and was now pawing at the dark green yukata he was wearing, presumably trying to find out where he was hurt. His entire attention was on Ichigo.

"I don't know," Ichigo replied seriously, and when he tried to swallow his throat felt tight. "I didn't even know you were both in Soul Society."

Ryūken bowed his head and Ichigo saw his shoulders shudder once, then he said in a low voice, "I suppose it was too much to hope for." A moment later, his head flew up and he frowned at Ichigo, "Your father? Yuzu? Did you say?"

Really not firing on all cylinders. "Dad's in jail, Yuzu's at the 4th," Ichigo repeated, adding his own question again for good measure. "Where did you see Uryū last?"

"Back there," Ryūken said, "with that painted madman and those monsters."

Karin glanced back over her shoulder. A part of Ichigo almost wanted Ryūken to reach through the mesh and grab her, for the whole thing to fall apart into a mammoth mind fuck of some description, because the alternative… the alternative…

"Ichi-nii?" Karin's voice was desperate. "That's got to be the 12th, Ichi-nii."

The alternative was that he'd been living the high-life in Soul Society while his cousin and uncle were being tortured by Kurotsuchi.

Fuck.

"How long?" he asked, knowing his voice reflected the brittleness he was feeling. "Did they grab you from the real world as well?"

He didn't need to hear Ryūken's answer, his uncle's face said everything; the despair and the stoically concealed pain and terror. It wasn't surprising that the man didn't seem like himself. It was a freaking miracle he was able to even think at all after that long in the hands of the 12th.

"We can't just leave Uryū there," Karin was saying urgently. "We've got to get him out!" And yeah, they did. They really did. But how? The 12th wasn't the 9th. Going head to head against Kurotsuchi on his home ground was suicidal, and getting himself killed wasn't gonna help Uryū any.

Only one thing was absolutely crystal clear. "Whatever I do, you're not coming," he said to Karin.

"He's my cousin-" she started, up on her feet and fists bunching.

He spoke over her without a qualm. "Yeah, but I need you doing something important. Something I can't do."

That shut her up. "What?" she asked.

"If we get him out, we can't take him to the 6th, that'd be beyond stupid," Ichigo, said levelling a serious look at her. For one thing Byakuya'd never let Uryū stay, and for another, Kurotsuchi'd track him there straight away. "We need to get him, and uncle Ryūken, out of Seireitei, quickly and quietly. And I don't have the contacts to make that happen."

"I do, I can," she said, breathlessly. "Give me… Give me one night. I'll have somewhere safe for them to go and a way to get there. I promise."

She looked ready to run off straight away. Ichigo tried to think of a reason to stop her and found none. In fact it'd be better if she was gone. That way if Urahara turned up, she wouldn't be caught. "I know you will" he said. "Send me a butterfly when you're set."

With a sharp nod, she sprinted towards the long rope ladder that dangled down from the ceiling, her steps blurring into shunpo.

Ichigo watched her go then turned to Ryūken. His uncle was staring at him with an indecipherable expression on his face. His glasses were gone. That was why he looked so different. Well, that and how grey and papery his skin looked.

"You're one of them?" Ryūken said, as Ichigo came near to examine the lock keeping the mesh closed.

"Yep," Ichigo replied, keeping his eyes on the job and trying not to feel like the filthiest sort of collaborator. Fuck, every meal he'd eaten since he got here, every good night's sleep he'd had, every kiss and caress he'd shared. Every time he'd congratulated himself on keeping Karin and Yuzu safe. It was all based on lies.

He hadn't even given a thought to his uncle and cousin. Isshin might be locked up, but at least he was safe.

"If your father's in jail, I don't suppose you had much choice." The lack of judgement in Ryūken's voice just made it worse.

"There's always a choice," Ichigo growled. He'd turned a blind eye. Let things slip past. Pretended it didn't matter, because those people weren't his people, and all that time. Fuck!

The lock was reinforced with some kind of kidō seal, so opening it was a non-starter with his skills. Ichigo took a step or two back, judging the depth of the cage. It'd be close but he should be able to use getsuga tenshō to break it open and not end up hurting Ryūken. He loosened Zangetsu's bindings and hefted the sword into his hand. "Get as close as you can to the front, oji-san," he said, "and cover your head. I'll have you out in a second."

"I never did ask," Ryūken said, a little breathlessly as he eased himself into position. "How did you work out I was here?"

Ichigo, who'd kept his eyes fixed solidly on the cage and not his uncle, shrugged and replied, "There were rumours. So we decided to have a poke around. We got lucky and spotted Urahara leaving the cave."

Ryūken made a strangled sound. "Spotted? Impossible. If you saw that man then it was only because he wanted to be seen."

"I'm hurt, truly. So distrusting," a voice came from behind Ichigo. "And after everything I've done for you, as well."

Ichigo lurched round, already yelling, "Getsuga tenshō!" as he swung Zangetsu down, releasing reiatsu and, "You fucking shithead!" as an impromptu kiai.

Urahara Kisuke deflected it with a casual sweep of his zanpakutō, which he then lazily sheathed as he sauntered forwards, not seeming to give a damn that Ichigo had just released a sheet of pure power that would've vaporised a hollow right in his face. But then why would he? He could probably thrash Ichigo without even trying if that little demonstration was anything to go by. And where the hell had the guy come from anyway? Ichigo had been waiting for him, expecting him, and he'd still managed to sneak up on them!

"Now this is a very useful gadget," Urahara said as he came towards them, slipping off that dark cloak Ichigo had seen him wearing earlier. "The judicious application of a little kidō and I can control precisely how detectable I am in any specific situation." He smirked and continued, "It's perfect for spying on certain people who'd rather I didn't watch."

Ichigo grimaced, taking a step back to put himself firmly between Urahara and his uncle. "You are such a freaking creep."

"Oh come now," Urahara replied, stopping a few feet away. "Are you telling me you've never wanted to see a pretty girl in her more private moments? I am disappointed, Kurosaki-san."

The blush rushed up Ichigo's cheeks despite his best attempts to stop it. "Yeah, but I'd never actually look!" he snapped back.

"And therein lies the difference between us. It's about commitment, Kurosaki-san." Urahara's expression did that thing where he suddenly looked like evil incarnate. "When I want something, I reach out and take it."

Ichigo shuddered but he didn't lower Zangetsu. There was no way he was letting this guy near his uncle, not again. "You might as well leave. He's not yours, not anymore."

"Indeed he is not," Urahara said in a very determined way. "He is, and has always been, very strictly yours, Kurosaki-san. Why do you think I rescued him from the 12th?"

Rescued? Ichigo risked a glance back at Ryūken, who had managed to drag himself up to standing and was perched on wobbly legs clinging to the mesh. "Did he?" Ichigo asked.

"Honestly, I don't know," Ryūken replied. "I was dying. I was glad, relieved it was finally all over, but then I woke up. Here, with him."

"And I've been healing him ever since." Urahara leaned forwards and did that odd fluttery thing he did with his hand in Ichigo's face. "Which is no easy matter, let me tell you. Quincy physiology is nothing like shinigami at all! I've had to invent a whole new branch of science!"

"Quincy?" Ichigo spun to stare at his uncle, who was staring back, wide-eyed. "You're a Quincy?" But of course he was. He was mom's cousin and mom was a Quincy. 'Stupid freaking dumbass!' Ichigo chided himself. That had to be why they grabbed him and… "Is Uryū one too?"

Ryūken nodded, eyes dropping as though he was ashamed, and screw that for a game of soldiers! "Good. I'm glad. When you're both fit again, you can help me sort this shit hole out," Ichigo said, turning back to Urahara with a smug smirk. See, creep, I don't turn on my family just because they're freaky. Even if that did mean Ryūken had to have known about dad, probably for all of Ichigo's life, and yet he'd never said a word about shinigami or Soul Society or Quincy powers. Ichigo shrugged all that off and dug his heels in. Family was family was family.

"How impressive!" Urahara gushed. "I can hardly wait until you pick up the reins from our woefully inadequate masters." His voice dropped, along with the corners of his mouth. "Such a pity really that you're going to be slaughtered out of hand trying to rescue your cousin. Oh well," he brightened, "I suppose it's the trying that counts."

"I'm not gonna be slaughtered," Ichigo snapped back, even though he had a sneaky suspicion Urahara was right. "I'll… I'll take Renji with me. He's got bankai."

"Indeed he has, and very large one it is as well, or so I've been told." And how the hell did the creep manage to make that sound suggestive. Ichigo fought back another blush as Urahara smirked and continued, "However, bankai or not, you're going to need more than that to get into the 12th and safely out again with your cousin. Luckily for you, I am willing to help.

"I know, I know," he said, waving away Ichigo's snarled, "Not on your fucking life."

"You've got no reason to trust me. I am, after all, a terrible man. But," and he held up a finger, "I am a terrible man who has not only rescued your uncle, but has been looking after him for you. Who spread the word of his whereabouts, giving you the opportunity to come and pay a home visit on your own terms. And," he smiled broadly, "I didn't creep up behind you and kill you when I had the chance."

"I still don't trust you," Ichigo replied, though he could feel his resolve wavering. What Urahara said was true, and if he could give them something like that cloak, they might be able to get into the 12th without being seen at all.

"Well then, I ask you this. Have you ever met a scientist who wouldn't willingly aid and abet someone who was about to lay to waste years of his greatest rival's research?"

Ryūken made a strange noise. Ichigo glanced at him, at the slight pink on his cheeks, and turned back to Urahara. "Say I say yes, what's in it for you?"

"Me? Let's look at what's in for you first," Urahara said with a simpering smile. "For example, I can offer you the use of several of these exceedingly useful reiryoku suppressing cloaks." He patted the garment folded over his arm. "A detailed map of Kurotsuchi's laboratories and a brief overview of the 12th's defences. Not to mention, I am the only person in Seireitei with a secret bolt hole wherein you can hide your cousin until such time as you can get him and his father to safety.

"So tell me, Kurosaki-san," his smirk grew revoltingly cheerful. "Now can I interest you in a little proposition?"


	13. Back to Back: Swing it Down

If he hadn't been speaking to Hisana, Renji would have punched Ichigo in the nose when the kid came barrelling in through the front doors three quarters of an hour after his curfew.

"Where the fu- flaming hell have you been?" Renji snapped, running a critical eye over his soon to be fukutaichō, checking for damage. Or worse, evidence of wrong doing. "I was this damned close to sending out the guard!"

"Sorry," Ichigo shot back, not sounding it in the least bit. He ducked to one side and said to Hisana, "Are you done here? I need to talk to him."

"Help yourself," she replied cheerily, gathering her things. "He was just trying to talk himself out of worrying you'd been strung up from some division's walls for carrying out another impromptu rescue."

"Hey!" Renji protested as she gave him a little backwards wave and wandered off. He'd only mentioned the possibility to her in passing. It wasn't like he was really worried. Although looking at the furious glower on Ichigo's face and the way his shoulders looked like twin rocks strung on wire, maybe he should have been more concerned. "Okay, what have you done?"

"Not here," Ichigo replied, and stalked off in the general direction of the lieutenant's office.

Well, crap. He'd hadn't even denied it.

"If you want to talk privately," Renji called after him, "You're heading in the wrong direction. Fired, remember." Probably doubly fired after this afternoon. He'd half been expecting to end up in the guardhouse again. Not that he regretted it, even for a moment. "Also, why'd you make Hisana leave if we were going anyway?"

Ichigo changed direction mid-stride and headed towards the main doors again. "'Cause it's nearly ten and the night shift shoulda relieved her already. For fuck's sake, Renji, not everyone in this division works a twenty-four hour day like we do. Some of them have got a freaking life."

"Well, excuse me for breathing," Renji grumbled and trailed after him. They crossed the dark courtyard in silence and as they approached the third barrack block, Renji jogged a step or two to catch up saying, "Y'know, if you're gonna be my fukutaichō, ya could treat me with a bit more respect." It was gonna be bad enough in some quarters with Ichigo being a Shiba and him just a gaki.

Ichigo muttered something like, "Not happening anytime soon," and shunpo'd ahead again, which left Renji even more confused as to what the fuck had gone down that evening, and more that a bit annoyed again. But having a shouting match with Ichigo in the middle of the division didn't sound like the best way of getting the respect he was after, so Renji held off and waited until they reached their quarters. Time enough then to take the kid down a peg or two if required.

Only, they weren't the first ones home. The first thing Renji saw as he came through the door was Ichigo telling the little negator guy to scram, which seemed a bit unfair since he was billeted there as well. Still he bowed to Ichigo, bowed again to Renji, and left the rooms without comment.

Renji waited for the door to close and turned his attention to Ichigo. Now, maybe he might get some answers. "What the fuck is going on?"

"I need your help," Ichigo said without preamble. He grabbed up the hand-drawn maps and papers he and Renji had been using from the table, then fished in the front of his shihakushō, pulling out a tightly rolled tube.

Renji wandered over to look as Ichigo unfurled the… Was that a blueprint? "What the hell?" Renji said when he spotted the large 12 on one corner.

Ichigo, leaning over the table and holding the plans flat with both hands, took a deep breath and looked at Renji. It was the first time he'd met Renji's eyes since he got back and now Renji could see the agony hidden there. "Kurotsuchi's got my cousin," he said.

"Ganju?" Renji asked, because if Kurotsuchi had snatched Kūkkaku then the Omaeda would be screaming by now.

But Ichigo was shaking his head. "No, my other cousin. My mom's… Well, I guess technically he's my second cousin, but we were kind of brought up together in a way so… " For a second he fell silent, then he shook his head again. "Doesn't matter. Kurotsuchi's got him and I'm getting him back."

"By charging headlong into the 12th division." Renji snorted. "Good way of getting yourself killed, that." A cousin on his mom's side. Did that mean…?

"Which is why we're not doing it that way," Ichigo was saying.

"This cousin," Renji interjected before the craziness went any further. "He a… Quincy by any chance?"

Ichigo glared at him, lip curling. "Why?" he snarled. "That gonna make a difference to you helping me or not?"

Backing off a step or two, Renji held up his hands. "Hey, just asking. You don't gotta bite my head off." He stepped forward again and deliberately jostled their shoulders together as he leaned over to check out the blueprints, which were more detailed than any Renji'd ever seen, except for the ones of the 6th that Byakuya kept locked in his office. Damn, did that mean these were the real thing? Where had Ichigo gotten them from anyway? "So what's the plan?" he asked.

"The plan," Ichigo said, "is to break in here." He pointed to a spot on the map.

Renji craned his neck to peer closer at the tiny lettering. Printed right next to a pair of dotted parallel lines that seemed to run straight through the centre of the 12th division base was '_SWR56NS2-1'_. "Through the sewer? No way." No fucking way was he getting dragged through a sewer that ran under the 12th. "You got any idea the kinds of things the 12th flushes?" he demanded. "If we come back out the same species we went in we'll be lucky."

"Urahara says it's the safest option," Ichigo mumbled.

Renji stared at him. "Excuse me, but I thought I just heard you mention that fucking bastard's name," he said. "Four months ago he almost killed taichō so he could strap you to a table and do experiments on ya. Tell me he's not involved now."

Silence. Ichigo glared at the table, fingers curling into fists, and honestly that was answer enough. Renji could have kicked himself. He never should have let the kid go out alone. It was asking for trouble. "I'm gonna ask you again," Renji said quietly. "What the fuck have you done?"

That was when the whole sorry tale spilt out. The oh-so-convenient rumours, the 'lucky' sighting, the 'discovery' of Ichigo's uncle. Then the revelation that Urahara had rescued him, but that the cousin was still firmly in Kurotsuchi's clutches.

And then, just when Renji thought it couldn't get any worse, came the inevitable offer of help: reiryoku suppressing cloaks, these blueprints, details of alarms and security that had to have come from someone inside the 12th. The bolt-hole.

By the time Ichigo had finished, Renji only had one question for him. "What's the price?" Because no way was Urahara doing this out of the goodness of his black and twisted heart. It was a trap. The perfect Ichigo trap.

"Nothing for you to worry about."

That was just about it. Renji grabbed Ichigo's shoulder and had him spun round and up against the wall before the kid could draw breath. "I asked you what the fuck the price was, Kurosaki. Damn well answer me."

Ichigo's hand came up to grab his wrist, but he didn't even attempt to force it away. His eyes were downcast, his face miserable. Renji began to get worried. "Look," Renji said, "I get that you want to rescue your cousin, but we'll find another way. Give it a week or so-"

"A week or so!" Ichigo yelled and there was a hint of tears in guilt ridden eyes, "He's been in there for over a fucking year, Renji. He'll be dead inside another week!"

Renji put a solid hand on Ichigo's other shoulder and leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together. "Listen to yourself for just a second," he said, as calmly as he could around his wildly beating heart. "If he's survived for a year, he can survive another week. Ichigo, think. How's ya cousin gonna feel if you get him out and then what, disappear into Urahara's labs and abandon him?"

"That's not the deal," Ichigo said, pulling away and angling his head so he was staring over Renji's shoulder. "He just wants a favour."

"A favour," Renji repeated. "Undefined, indeterminate, unlimited. Just a favour!" His fingers tightened and he shook Ichigo once, slamming him back against the wall with a pained grunt. "For fuck's sake, you stupid idiot!" He let go and turned away in disgust, stomping back to the table. "You want help, we wait. Sort out our own way, do our own research. You go with this shit," he flung his arm towards the blueprints, "you go on yer own."

A loud crash from the other side of the closed and locked door made both of them jump. Renji frowned at Ichigo, who stared back looking just as worried as Renji felt, their argument forgotten under outside pressure. They had an eavesdropper. One who'd just overheard them discussing breaking into the 12th.

Silently, Renji reached out, unsheathing Zabimaru with his other hand. He carefully drew back the bolt and whipped the door open, flicking Zabi out through the gap at gut level - and damn nearly decapitated the little negator guy.

As Hanatarō screamed and flailed over backwards, Renji yelled, "Holy crap!" and lunged for him with his empty hand. Had he made contact? He didn't think he had. "Are you okay?" he asked, steadying the little guy carefully back onto his feet by the front of his shihakushō. Considering how close that'd been, sitting the guy down seemed like the best option. He guided Hanatarō towards the nearest bed and was more than a bit surprised when he shrugged Renji off to go and stand in front of Ichigo.

"I'm s-sorry, Kurosaki-sama," Hanatarō said, bowing deeply. "I know I shouldn't have been listening in, but if Abarai-fukutaichō won't come with you, then I will." And for all that his voice had a quaver to it, he was standing as straight as he ever did and his hands where he gripped his hakama were as steady as little rocks.

Renji shook his head, "Look kid," he said, coming to stand beside him. "I know you mean well, but that's not gonna happen. Kurosaki-"

"Okay," Ichigo agreed, straight over the top of him.

"What?" Renji said at the same moment that Hanatarō went, "Really?"

"Sure," Ichigo continued with a shrug. "I promised my uncle I'd get Uryū out and I can't do it alone, so why not. If Renji won't come with me, you can come instead."

What the hell was Ichigo thinking? The little guy'd be mincemeat on a run like that. This was blackmail. Hostage-taking. Using Renji's weaknesses against him because Hanatarō was just a helpless kid from the camps and there was no way Renji was gonna let Ichigo get one of his own killed in a stupid ass stunt like this.

And the narrow-eyed look Ichigo cast at Renji told him Ichigo knew that was exactly what he was doing.

'You fucker,' Renji mouthed at him, over Hanatarō's head.

Ichigo's mouth hardened and, bugger it all, there was that look, the same one he had around that little human girl. The one that said, 'I'm doing this, whatever'. Renji closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and gathered his temper. His choices were shit and shittier, and neither of them were gonna improve for keeping. "Fine," he snapped, "I'll come with you, but I swear on everything holy, Kurosaki, we get caught and I'm throwing you to the freaking wolves."

* * *

They agreed, finally, that Hanatarō would stay behind and cover for them; go and fetch tea from the mess, mention loudly to anyone who'd listen that they were busy in their rooms, that sort of thing. It wasn't much, but if by some miracle they didn't get caught and someone came around afterwards asking awkward questions, it'd be useful to have a bit of an alibi.

In a way, it wasn't a lie. To start with they were working; poring over the blueprints and plans, thrashing out access and egress points, the most likely places Kurotsuchi would have Ichigo's cousin locked up, and how the hell they were going to distract any guards long enough to do a runner with him. Neither of them suggested turning this into a run on the division. Renji didn't know about Ichigo, but he had no desire at all to be in charge of the 12th. Whoever was captain there was default head of ShinRI (Shinigami Research Institute) and was expected to keep supplying whatever the Gotei needed for the field, a task neither of them were suited for.

No, this was gonna be a straightforward rescue mission, a bit like the one they'd pulled off at the 10th, except this time they knew what they were doing going in. Whether or not that'd make it easier to complete successfully, Renji would just have to wait and see.

Essentials gathered, they shunpo'd back to the Sōkyoku Hill, grabbed the cloaks that Urahara had stashed for them and headed north-east towards the 12th. They hit the sewers three blocks out, still alongside the 7th.

Renji swung down the ladder, adjusted his cloak and took a step back to let Ichigo join him. It stank as much as Renji had expected it to, and the ceiling dripped like some kind of foul rain, but the walkways were solid under his feet and the main drain ran freely. That was a relief. The tunnels under the 6th might be ten times better than this, but this was probably a hundred times better than what they'd find under the 12th. At least they wouldn't have to start wading straight away like he thought they might.

Ichigo dropped to the ground beside him with quiet thump and splash. As he stood, Renji could see him wrinkling his nose at the smell, and smirked at him maliciously. He got no more than narrowed eyes in response before Ichigo frowned thoughtfully for a second and then struck out decisively in entirely the wrong direction. Renji grabbed him before he could go more than a step or two, and pointed down the correct passage.

"You sure," Ichigo whispered, ducking in close.

"Totally," Renji replied just as quietly, and set off.

The patrol came from nowhere. One moment Renji was picking his way across a dodgy bit of brickwork and the next a concealed door opened right in front of him and all the kidō lights down the tunnel came on.

Renji froze, hardly daring to breath as guy after guy filed out, all heading straight for him. They were chatting, something about divisional boundaries and not really concentrating, but they'd have to see him. He was standing right in the middle of the walkway. Any second now, they'd have to see him.

His hand strayed to his waist ready to draw Zabimaru, as the leader laughed at something one of the others had said and turned his head, his eyes lifting to meet Renji's.

Except they didn't. The guy was looking right at him, but there was no eye contact. Renji waited for the gasp, the shout, the alarm to be raised, but nothing. The guy couldn't see him. It was like he was invisible.

He was invisible.

The cloaks really worked.

Renji's stomach lurched with relief and he took a single step sideways to clear the path. The patrol still passed less than three feet from him, closer to Ichigo, yet not a one twitched so much as an eyebrow in either of their directions. Renji stayed unmoving until their footsteps faded into silence, and then he sagged against the wall, his heart pounding in his throat, eyes fluttering closed in relief.

"Urahara isn't a total liar then," Ichigo muttered from beside him.

Renji glanced up into Ichigo's face, pasty pale against the black of his cloak hood. Their eyes met and for a second they just stared at each other. Then Ichigo snickered, shoving his fist in his mouth to cover the sound. Too late. Renji felt the laugh catch at his throat and even gritted teeth weren't enough to keep it contained. It escaped in a little bark that Ichigo echoed, and then they were both laughing, sitting curled together on the damp ground, heads buried in their chests and trying desperately not to make too much noise.

"Shit," Renji choked finally, ribs killing him from holding back incipient hysterics. "I can't believe we didn't check these damn things out first."

"Before we popped out of the ground in the middle of the 12th, you mean," Ichigo whispered back and that just set them off again. Relief, fear and adrenaline, all conspiring to push them towards hysteria.

Ironically, once he'd calmed down, Renji found he felt a hell of a lot better. More focused, less distracted by the enormity of what they were about to do. And probably most importantly, not as mad at Ichigo any longer.

Taking a deep restorative breath, he rose to his feet and held out a hand. "Come on," he said, keeping his voice low, "Let's go get your cousin."

* * *

It was easy to tell when they got close to the 12th from the smell. It changed from shit to almost pure chemicals. Renji, having expected something like it, stopped to cover his mouth and nose with a cloth. He handed a spare to Ichigo, who took it silently but with a grateful look. And then they were moving again, keeping close to the walls and well away from the river of pollution running beside them. Renji kept his eyes averted as well. Once or twice he spotted something bulky floating past and he really didn't want to know what it might be. He definitely didn't after he heard Ichigo's gasp and gag.

Their access point was up a side tunnel. It was narrow and dark, and smelt like something had died in it and rotted away. Even with the cloth, Renji found himself holding his breath as he inched through the darkness, trying to not to think about what was crunching under his feet. Finally, just when he was about to reach screaming point, the tunnel ended in a rusty metal ladder.

"Me first," Ichigo said, pushing past with a smirk. "Gotta keep my new captain safe."

Renji curled his lip at Ichigo's backside as he started to climb, but didn't have much choice in letting him take the lead. Going second was another one of those things he was going to have to get used to, he guessed.

The corridor they emerged into was dimly lit with sickly green kidō, and as silent as the grave. Somehow that managed to be worse than the screams of agony and howls of despair Renji had been half expecting from the lowest levels of the 12th. But at least it didn't smell, and Renji gratefully shed his mask, tucking it back inside his kosode for use on the way back out.

After closing the maintenance hatch, they headed past several closed doors towards the stairs the map told them lay at the north end of the next corridor over. It was at the top of those that they came across the first signs of life. Light spilt into the corridor from a side room and as they came close Renji could hear someone whistling quietly. It was an old song he remembered the girls singing out in the camps as they played bean bags, something about flowers and the wind.

Renji sidled up to the door and peered inside. A spiky-haired guy in a lab-coat stood over a some machine, poking at something and periodically glancing up at several screens full of rapidly scrolling text. Just visible past him was a folded screen partially concealing a sheet-draped table that was surrounded by even more machinery. And hanging off the table was something that looked too much like a human leg for Renji's comfort. As he watched, it twitched and a machine beeped. The guy sighed, pushed a couple of buttons and then turned towards the table.

Renji decided he'd seen more than enough thank you. He grabbed Ichigo and together they ducked past the door, Renji keeping one hand on Ichigo's shoulder to make sure they stayed on track. It was the one promise he'd managed to extract from the kid before they set off. No matter what else they saw, no matter who else they saw, they were only rescuing the Quincy. Urahara had only provided three cloaks. They couldn't afford to risk trying to get anyone else out.

Two more rooms on that floor had the lights switched on. One had machines as well, more things that beeped and hissed like something from the 4th. Renji kept a tight hold of Ichigo as they went past that one, and tried not to think about the kinds of things that might need life-support.

At the end of the next corridor, they hit their first guard. He was standing right in front of the stairwell door, head down and dozing, arms folded across his chest. There was no getting around him; it was through or nothing. And since they couldn't leave anyone alive who might be able to ID them, and kidō was impossible in the cloaks, it was going to have to be a kill. The up close and personal kind.

Renji went to step forward, prepared to do the deed, but this time it was Ichigo who caught his arm. Renji cocked an eyebrow at him, as Ichigo mouthed, 'Mine.'

There was something in his eyes that brooked no argument. Renji took a step back and gestured for Ichigo to do what had to be done. The kid reached into his kosode and pulled out the Shiba tanto. He slipped it from its sheath and, for moment or two, balanced on his toes, adjusting his grip, his gloved fingers flexing as he seemed to be working himself up to do it. Then he placed the sheath on the ground and kicked it across the floor to bounce off the far wall.

The guard jerked awake, his attention immediately drawn to the thing moving across the floor. He turned to follow it, reaching down, and that was when Ichigo moved. Several rapid silent steps took him behind his target and as the guard stood back up with the sheath in his hand, Ichigo struck, plunging the blade of the tanto upwards, deep up into the guard's brain stem. The shinigami collapsed without a murmur, Ichigo following him down and easing the body to ground. A good clean kill.

Renji stepped up to help and together they shifted the body into an adjacent empty room and hid it under a desk. It'd be found in the morning, but by then they'd be gone, hopefully.

The stairs came as a welcome reprieve after that. Renji would have pressed on but Ichigo had shaken his head and leaned against the wall for a second, wiping at his face with trembling fingers. They left dark streaks in their wake. Blood; that wasn't a good idea.

Grabbing Ichigo's chin, Renji wiped it away using the inner part of his own sleeve. "You okay?" he asked quietly once he was done, peering close into Ichigo's face. His pupils looked blown in the dim light. What the hell was rattling his cage so badly anyway?

_Cut the kid some slack_, Zabimaru growled softly in his head. _That was his first real kill._

Zabimaru was right, Renji realised, understanding landing on him, heavy and unwelcome with everything they had before them. Sure they'd taken those guys out at the 10th, but that had been spur of the moment stuff. Ichigo probably hadn't even thought about what he was doing before he'd gone in there. Plus Renji and the others had finished most of them off anyway. So, for all his prowess in sparring matches and hollow encounters over the past few months, Ichigo had yet to face down and kill another shinigami in cold blood. Until now.

If Renji'd remembered that, he probably wouldn't have let Ichigo take out the guard. It was so easy to forget just how damned inexperienced the kid was. Still, what was done was done, and Ichigo needed to buck himself up and get moving. "Three more floors," Renji whispered, holding up his fingers.

Ichigo glanced up at him, his eyes coming back into focus. He licked his lips once and then nodded. "Right," he said. "Let's go."

The floor they emerged onto was in deep night mode just like the last. Nothing moved, not even machines. Dim lights glowed along the length of the corridor reflecting off spotless tiled floors, scrubbed walls and a sign dangling from the ceiling that read, 'Avoid the Number One cause of Experimental Failure!' In smaller print beneath was, 'Cross-contamination: Remember to Wash or Replace Your Hands and other Appendages.'

Renji shuddered. It was like someone had taken all the good things from the 4th and twisted them, turning them into something as creepy as fuck.

They hurried along corridor after identical corridor, passing labs that looked like hospital rooms and hospital rooms that looked more like cells, complete with bars on the windows and locks on the doors. And all of them were empty. This floor was supposed to house Kurotsuchi's personal research, so where were all the subjects?

"I expected there to be more… I dunno, screaming?" Ichigo whispered, echoing Renji's thoughts as they trotted past yet another lab draped in dust covers.

Renji shrugged. Whatever the reason, he couldn't worry about it right now. Time was getting on and Renji was getting a real feeling of living a charmed existence. Everything was going too well, too easily, and they still had to find the Quincy

According to Ichigo the most likely place for him to be was in Kurotsuchi's number two lab. The primary one being reserved for emergencies, whatever that meant.

Thinking his way around the blueprints and maps they'd studied, Renji decided the place they wanted was probably located down the central corridor. "This way," he murmured and ducked round the next corner, only to find their way blocked by a glass wall and door that shouldn't be there. And visible through it, more guards.

"What the hell?" Renji growled. This hadn't been on the blue prints. The two guards; one male, one female; were no problem. Playing cards at a small table a few feet the other side of the door, they were distracted enough that they'd be easy to neutralise once Renji could get at them. But the door itself was another matter. It wasn't a normal one with a lock that could be picked. Instead it had some kind of machine attached to it, a blocky thing with a slot and an ominous looking red light.

"New security measure," Ichigo muttered, pushing past and pulling something out of the back of his glove. It looked like a bit of card. "Ready?" he asked.

Renji nodded, drawing Zabimaru. "Me first. The guy's yours." Leaving him the woman. A much safer bet given Ichigo's reaction to the last kill.

For a second it looked like Ichigo might argue, then he took a breath, nodded, and stuck the card in the slot. The box gave a small beep, the light turned green and the door clicked open.

Renji was through it in a heartbeat, Ichigo on his heels. A sharp blow to the temple knocked the female shinigami out before she could rise from her seat, and Renji followed it up with a neat neck break, keeping her braced back against his body to stop her kicking the chair over. He eased it to one side and then lowered the still twitching corpse to the ground, job done.

Ichigo wasn't handling his target anywhere near so efficiently. Either he hadn't been fast enough to take the guy unawares or the guard was good at hakuda. Whichever, now Ichigo had the guy in a chokehold on the ground, but his grip was all wrong and so instead of being strangled unconscious, the guard was slowly turning purple while his fingers clawed at the arm clamped around his throat. Going by the pained expression on Ichigo's face, the hand he had over the guy's mouth wasn't escaping unscathed either.

Leaving them to it would be cruel on both fronts, so Renji carefully lifted the second chair out of the way before it could get knocked over by wildly flailing legs, grabbed the guard by the knees and pinned his lower half to the ground by sitting on him. Despite not being able to see his attackers, the guy knew what was coming. As Renji leaned over him, he bucked frantically, eyes wide, and began swinging punches that were inaccurate enough for Renji to shrug off. Less than ten seconds later, the guard was dead, throttled by Renji's hand around his throat, and finished off in the same way as his companion.

While Ichigo got his breath back, Renji began the clean up, starting with the easiest jobs first. He righted the chairs and then headed for the door, which had been left ajar during the attack, only for Ichigo to yelp, "Don't shut it!" loud enough that Renji hissed at him to shut up.

"Leaving it open's just asking for someone to pick up on us being here," Renji argued, albeit in a whisper.

Ichigo shook his head. "Can't," he said in a quiet voice. "That kind of lock won't open from the inside. Got to stick something in the catch, make sure we can get out again."

As Ichigo tinkered, Renji did the rest of the grunt-work, shifting the bodies into an empty side room and covering them with dust-sheets. But as he worked, he couldn't drag his thoughts away from the gadget on the door. He didn't like it. Ichigo called it a lock but it smacked of kidō and seals, except Renji had never seen kidō that did anything like that. And how did Urahara even know about this stuff anyway? Did he have someone on the inside, or was he in cahoots with Kurotsuchi? Ichigo swore he wasn't but Renji couldn't help feeling otherwise. The guy was bad news, through and through.

"This way," Ichigo was saying, done with the door and off down the corridor without so much as a 'by your leave'. With a last backwards look at the door, Renji jogged after him, keeping an eye out for more guards as they went, but every room was locked down and shrouded in sheets and dust like all the others.

Except one apparently.

A couple of corridors over, Renji found Ichigo standing outside a door that looked just like all the others, peering through a small glass pane. He glanced up when Renji arrived, eyes burning with determination. "This one. I can't see him, but I can definitely feel him," he said.

Quincy must be more sensitive or something. With his reiatsu trapped beneath the cloak, Renji couldn't sense a thing.

_But there is s-something_, hissed Zabimaru, inside his head, _Something that pulls on us-s. Drains us-s._

There was only one thing Renji knew of that did that. "Sekkiseki?"

"Hm?" Ichigo said.

He was fiddling with yet another box. This one had a load of buttons on it and a whole series of flashing lights. Renji decided he preferred locks that came with keys, the solid kind you could hang on your belt. "It's a kind of stone. They use it in the prisons to keep the inmates reiryoku levels down."

The look Ichigo shot him reminded Renji that Isshin was probably having that done to him, if the poor bastard hadn't been sealed completely. "Sorry," he muttered, immediately feeling like shit for being so unthinking.

Ichigo just shook his head and pressed another couple of buttons. Something inside the door clicked loudly and it swung open by about half an inch. Renji pushed it open further and slipped through the gap, Zabimaru leading the way.

The room was empty of scientists, but not of equipment. One wall was completely covered with a bank of complex looking machinery with screens and flashing lights. The other had tall benches full of glass tubes and flasks and metal stands. An pair of surgical tables were pushed up against it allowing access up the middle of the room to the far wall, which was plain white except for the dark outline of a door cut into it.

Ichigo headed straight for that.

After briefly considering stopping him, Renji decided not to bother and instead did a quick thorough check of the room before following Ichigo to the back. The door was still firmly closed and Ichigo was working with something that looked a bit like a chisel.

"You planning on hacking yer way in?" Renji asked. If that really was sekkiseki, it might be the only option. Except, hang on, that wasn't a chisel. It had buttons. Renji's lip curled. Another one of Urahara's gadgets, then.

Ichigo glanced up at him and said, "Quit pulling stupid faces, it's how he got Ryūken out. I've just got to…" As Renji watched, Ichigo pressed buttons on both sides of the thing and twisted it at the same time. It made an odd whining noise, glowed neon blue round the handle and a long spike protruded from the front.

"What the hell?" Renji took a wary step back.

Ichigo slid the spike carefully into the gap between the door and the jamb, and a second later the whole thing released with a grinding thunk. The door opened and, oh crap, there were the sounds and smells Renji had been expecting since he first set foot in the 12th.

The acrid stench of ammonia layered over sweet sharp rot assaulted Renji's nose at the same time as a low keening sob hit his ears. Ichigo had the door open and was through before Renji could stop him. Left with no choice, Renji followed into a brightly lit hell. There were two people - no, correction, there were two live people. There were also the remains of two others, which was where the smell of rotting flesh was coming from. Them, he ignored; they weren't a threat.

Ichigo had his cloak hood down and was crouched beside a skinny dark-haired guy who seemed to be fast asleep on the floor. The cousin, presumably. Renji turned his attention to the second prisoner, who was in the opposite corner, the same place the overpowering stink of piss was coming from. Whoever they were, they were curled up under the remains of several shihakushō, sobbing hysterically. The noise grated on Renji's nerves; it sounded like desperation and terror and hopelessness all rolled into one.

Breathing through his mouth, he bent to twitch aside some of the cloth to see if he should do something to keep them quiet permanently. He wasn't the type to leave a soul suffering. Just as he did, a cry came from the other side of the room, "Don't touch me!"

Renji shot round to see Ichigo, his hands up, backing away from his cousin who was now wide awake and flailing at him. The guy was nude, Renji realised, and skeletally thin. He also appeared mostly unhurt, though he was loosely chained to the wall by manacles around his ankles and wrists.

"I said, don't touch me!" he yelled again, and crap, were they going to have to knock him out to handle him?

Not if Ichigo had anything to do with it apparently. He ploughed straight back in with, "Shut up! Seriously, Ishida, it's me, I'm not gonna hurt you."

His brash style seemed to work. The Quincy stopped swinging at him and squinted short-sightedly instead. "Kurosaki? What are you doing here?" Now his voice was tight and controlled, so different from Ichigo's that, if Renji hadn't heard his previous outburst, he'd never have believed they were related.

"Getting you out," Ichigo said, creeping closer, "if I can get these freaking chains off."

He reached out again, only for the Quincy to scrabble away from him as far as he could. "I said, don't touch me!" he snapped. "For goodness sake, Kurosaki, can't you even follow a simple instruction like that?"

"Fine," Ichigo snarled back, "but I don't know how I'm supposed to take them off if you won't let me get close enough!"

The put-upon huff he got in reply was so practised it had to be a regular thing between the two of them. The Quincy, or Ishida, Renji supposed he ought to call him, folded his arms and glared at Ichigo. "If you have the key, I am quite capable of releasing myself."

"It's not a key, it's a lock-pick thing and you can't use it," Ichigo retorted, leaning in again.

Ishida flapped at him, and this was getting damn strange. Why wouldn't he let Ichigo touch him, Renji wondered? Looking around the room, at the corpses, at the second prisoner, he was starting to get a really bad feeling about this. "Did that fucker say what Kurotsuchi was researching?" he asked finally, flicking the cloth clear of the now silent guy at his feet, and had to immediately look away to keep from puking.

It was only the kid's missing arm that let Renji recognise him; Rikichi, from the 10th. The one Byakuya had thrown out… was it only last night? With everything that had happened, it felt like several lifetimes ago.

"Renji?" Ichigo said, and then from closer, "Fucking hell! That's…"

"What you did to Ise," Renji finished for him when it looked like Ichigo had run out of words. "Only much worse."

"Oh god. I must have dropped off," the Quincy whispered, his voice muted. It turned desperate with his next question. "Is he okay? Tell me I didn't kill him."

"He's still alive," Renji confirmed, risking a glance back. Yes, that was muscle he could see moving beneath skin that looked more like lace in places. No wonder the kid had been crying.

"We can't leave him here," Ichigo said, looking up at him from where he was crouched next to the kid.

For once Renji wasn't going to argue. "I'll carry him," he said. "He'll fit under my cloak. You take your cousin."

"No. I can walk. You mustn't touch me."

Now Ishida's voice held a hint of hysteria and, putting all the clues together, Renji thought he got what was going on. That bastard Kurotsuchi had screwed with Ishida's Quincy abilities. In spite of Kyōraku going off half-cocked that day, Renji knew that Ichigo could choose when he absorbed reishi and who or where he got it from. It looked like Ishida couldn't any longer. Leastwise, not when he was asleep. Awake he seemed to have a bit of control, if the source was far enough away.

But what about close to?

Renji crossed to the guy in three strides, and ignored his protests to hold a hand out just above him. Almost immediately he felt the bite of his reishi being sucked away. He yanked his hand clear, shaking it to ease the tingle. "Wrap him in the cloak. All of him," he told Ichigo, "and if you've gotta touch him, use your gloves." He glanced back at the door. "Now get a move on, we need to get out of here."

This was feeling more and more like a trap by the minute. Any moment now, Renji was sure it was going to be alarms and lights and all hell breaking loose.

Hearing voices from outside was almost a relief.

"…surge of reiatsu from one of Kurotsuchi-taichō's labs." The first voice was light, young sounding. It could have been male or female, there was no way to tell.

"Which one?" Deeper. Gruff.

Renji and Ichigo exchanged worried looks. They were inside a cage made of sekkiseki which meant no shikai and no kidō. If they were caught inside it, they'd be locked in. Leaving would be the wisest option, but they couldn't without unhitching Ishida from the wall and getting a cloak on him.

More of the conversation drifted their way.

"In the secure area - oh! The door's unlocked, that's not right at all."

"Just stay back, okay?"

"You get him," Renji said jerking his head at Ishida, "I'll take care of those two." He drew Zabimaru and stalked to the stone door, slipping out through the gap and pulling it mostly closed behind him so as to protect Ichigo from anyone passing by. So far the main room itself was clear and he couldn't see anyone in the corridor outside. Which was strange. The speakers had sounded as though they were right outside the door.

"Up here?"

"Yes, second corridor, on the right. About halfway along."

The voices were being transmitted through one of the machines, Renji realised, which explained how they'd heard them coming from so far away. Damn, Kurotsuchi was even more paranoid than everyone thought if he used measures like that against his own people. Useful though, if you were breaking and entering.

Movement outside caught his eye. Renji dashed silently for the door, just managing to get into position as it opened. The guard who peered through didn't stand a chance. His severed head rolled further into the room as his body dropped, kicking and spraying blood across the floor. Renji cursed quietly and danced backwards, not wanting to get covered. Leaving a bloody trail of footprints on the way out when you were trying to be invisible would just be dumb.

"Jūji?" someone called from outside.

Damn it, that voice was way too masculine to be the other one on the comm, which meant this guy hadn't been alone. Renji cursed under his breath, grabbed for the back of the dead guard's shihakushō and hauled him further into the room.

Too late. Another figure appeared and this one had his sword drawn, already in shikai. He kicked the door wide open, slamming it back into the wall, and shouted, "Fighting flare, unleash!"

The resultant wave of fire took Renji completely by surprise. He flung Zabimaru up in front of him, grateful the zanpakutō's reiatsu was enough to split the flames into two, and felt the heat prickle his skin as it streamed past, one half to die against the sekkiseki, and the other to smack into the machines. They exploded, sparks shooting into the air along with the smell of melting plastic and ozone. Renji vaulted behind one of the surgical tables to get a better attack position, just as the door to the cell crashed open to reveal Ichigo, fully visible with his cloak hood still down.

"Flare bullet, three!" the guard at the door yelled, his words immediately followed by three short bursts of flame that shot across the room towards Ichigo.

The idiot didn't even have Zangetsu in his hand, Renji realised, grabbing the table and throwing it into the line of fire. Flaming, it crashed to the floor, skidding another couple of feet and spraying molten metal everywhere. Well, there was no point in hiding now. Renji swept the cloak from his shoulders, tossed it to Ichigo ignoring his shocked expression, and bellowed, "Get a fucking move on!" as he released Zabimaru's shikai.

The blade sliced the guard's head from his shoulders and flung it back out into the corridor, where someone, who must have been deaf and blind not to have noticed the fight going on, screamed. Renji had just enough time to check that Ichigo was safe back behind the sekkiseki before the sound of multiple sets of feet thundered up the corridor. He grabbed the remaining surgical table and retreated to the only non-smoldering corner of the room, ready to use Zabimaru's distance advantage to pick off any intruders stupid enough to come in.

They gave up charging in after the first two lost their heads. Someone had the idea of trying kidō, aiming a byakurai into the corner where Renji was hiding. He blocked it with a enkōsen, not wanting to use high level spells too early; no point in giving the bastards a heads-up as to who they were dealing with, after all.

After that failed, they got sneakier. Another byakurai, but this time when Renji popped up, someone else threw a shitotsu sansen. Bright move. You can't block a bakudō with a bakudō. But you can block it with a zanpakutō. Wielding Zabimaru with one hand, Renji spun the enkōsen into life with his other, and blocked both kidō simultaneously. "Hah!" he muttered under his breath. "Screw you!"

Then they rushed him.

It was a damn fool move, that would have worked if he'd been anything less than a lieutenant. As it was Zabimaru cut them all down in less time than it took them to cross half the room, Renji's reiatsu smashing the bakudō shield they'd had in front of them like it was a cheap pane of glass. He almost felt bad for them. Except they, like all the other combat shinigami in the 12th, were the bastards who hunted down the homeless and injured on the streets of Seireitei, which made them no better than the scientists in Renji's opinion. One more hit back for the little guy - who was going to end up taking on more than he could chew if they didn't get a move on. But he needed to check the corridor first.

It was blissfully empty, and as suspicious as hell. Despite all that kidō and screaming and fire, there were still no alarms and no extra guards. The silence was giving Renji hives. He was scrambling back into the room, thinking to give Ichigo a swift kick to get him moving, as the door to the stone cage opened a crack and Ichigo called out softly. "Renji? We're good to go?"

Thank crap for that. "Yeah, move it, we're clear," Renji stage-whispered back from the doorway, and promptly got smacked in the back of the head by a cloak that came from nowhere. He cussed quietly to himself as he slipped it around his shoulders and pulled up the hood.

Ichigo and his cousin immediately sprang into view. The Quincy was on his feet, which was a bit of a surprise to Renji given the state of him. Instead it was Rikichi who was getting the lift. Ichigo had him slung across his back somehow, tied on with strips of the shihakushō the kid had been cowering under. It didn't look comfortable, but it meant he was under the cloak and that both of Ichigo's hands were free. Renji nodded his approval, gestured for them to stay behind him and to avoid the mess on the floor, and started out into the corridor.

During those few moments of relative quiet after the skirmish, Renji had been doing some hard thinking. Getting out was obviously gonna be a lot more difficult than getting in. It might be quiet, but the 12th weren't fools; the alarm would definitely have been raised and there'd be proper guards on each and every exit by now. And that being the case, it might just be easier for Renji to fight their way out.

On the other hand, depending how much firepower turned up, doing it alone while watching Ichigo's back might be difficult. Ack, decisions. He hated decisions.

He glanced back over his shoulder to see Ichigo helping the Quincy out of the room, the door closing slowly behind them. Job done, Renji thought, now they just had to get out.

Which was when the whole thing went to hell in a handbasket.

A screeching wail loud almost enough to rupture eardrums pierced the air. Red lights strobed walls and ceiling, casting everything into mutated shadows and stark glaring relief. Renji bellowed something obscene and started running, Ichigo right behind him. Further up the corridor, a metal screen slammed down, followed by another and another, sealing off the side rooms. Larger, heavier ones were lowering slowly into the corridor itself. Renji grabbed Ichigo's arm, tossed his own cloak aside and stepped into shunpo. They had to get out, get clear of this before they were trapped.

His heart hammered in his throat as he ran, his thoughts beating just as wildly at the inside of his skull, because, damn it, he'd known this was all too good to be true. Too neat, too convenient. That fucking Urahara, Renji was going to track him down and rip him apart piece by piece for this.

If they got out.

No, not if. Thinking in 'if's was what got a guy killed. They _were _going to get out of this, and then Renji would be free to do whatever the hell he liked to that creep!

"Renji!" Ichigo yelled, as Renji hit something and bounced. The glass door, now firmly closed and locked.

Renji drew his sword and released his shikai all in the same breath. The next moment Zabimaru smashed against the glass, and rebounded, Renji only just managing to control the recoil before it took their heads off.

"Damn it!" he cursed, and attacked again, this time channelling more reiatsu into the blade. Same effect. And again. He was going to have to go bankai, use Zabimaru's brute power to-

Then from just behind him came, "Getsuga tenshō!"

Pure reiatsu sliced past Renji, cutting through the reinforced glass like butter. Uncloaked and with his cousin over his shoulder and Zangetsu in his hand, Ichigo tossed Renji a feral grin as he sprinted past, and they were off again, down the corridor, moving separately now, racing the security screens.

"Stairs!" Renji yelped, as much to remind himself as Ichigo. He dove into the stairwell and down, eschewing the steps themselves and leaping from level to level down the rail, and out again, onto the basement floor, and fuck!

Renji skidded to halt.

A pretty female shinigami stood in the centre of the corridor, her hands clasped in front of her. Dressed in shihakushō without hakama, that left her legs bare to mid-thigh, she was neither scary or impressive looking. She wasn't even carrying a zanpakutō, as far as Renji could see. But there was something about her that set his teeth right on edge.

He sent Zabimaru whipping towards her, feeling Ichigo release a silent getsuga tenshō beside him. The twin attacks hurtled down the corridor, bent on annihilating anything in their path, and still she didn't move. Why? Why would she just stand there? In the split second before Zabimaru connected, Renji felt it. Compressed reiatsu.

Not a shinigami, a bomb. Holy shit!

_Zabi?_

_We see it. We're ready._

"Bankai! Hihioū, Zabimaru!"

Hauling in his power when Zabimaru was at full stretch was really freaking difficult. Renji dug deep for every scrap of control he could muster and the Baboon King screamed into existence, snapping back just in time as the world exploded in fire and pressure and disintegrating masonry.

"What the fuck?" Ichigo yelled, crouched over his cousin who was on the floor at his feet, as Zabimaru's giant form seethed and coiled around them. "He blew up one of his own people?"

This was Kurotsuchi, of course he had.

Not bothering to explain, Renji sent the massive snake spiralling upwards, shouldering aside half-collapsed walls and roofs. It would make his bankai visible for miles but it didn't matter. With sirens wailing and lights strobing the night sky, any pretence at stealth had gone anyway. The only way they were getting out of this was by fighting, and to do that, Renji needed space.

Clusters of shinigami began appearing on nearby walls and rubble. Renji sent Zabimaru round on another sweep, scattering them further back, but seeing them was enough to make Renji realise something else.

This was definitely a trap, an Ichigo trap, which meant the 12th were going to be after Ichigo during this fight, not him. So, to do this properly, he needed Ichigo to be somewhere safe. The best way to do that was to send him back to the 6th, but since that was beyond Renji's current abilities, he did the next best thing.

"Hikotsu taihō!"

His reiatsu poured into Zabimaru, merging with his zanpakutō's and condensing into raw furious power that punched up Zabimaru's body and exploded as a ball of pure energy, that drove deep into the ground. Overkill? Probably. But Renji didn't have another way of doing it and at least Ichigo would be able to get into the sewers.

"Go!" he yelled to Ichigo, gesturing to the gaping hole in the ground as another wave of shinigami appeared.

From where he was still kneeling protectively over his cousin, Ichigo stared up at him, expression one of complete disbelief.

Renji focused his irritation with Ichigo at the shinigami trying to jump them, taking out a good half dozen, and shouted, "That's a fucking order, Kurosaki!"

That jerked Ichigo into action but not the way Renji had hoped. "Fuck off!" he bellowed back, rising to his feet and drawing Zangetsu. "No way am I leaving you behind!"

"Idiot! What about your cousin and the kid? I can't carry them and handle Zabi, and you ain't got bankai."

Ichigo glanced down at the cloak-wrapped figure huddling at their feet. The Quincy's eyes were closed, his face, where it was visible, was clammy looking. Cloak or no cloak, he wouldn't survive an extended fight with this much reiatsu flying around. And Ichigo had to know that. Still he looked defiant.

Renji pushed again. "And what about your promise to your uncle? Ya gonna break that? Risk his kid going back to the labs?"

Renji saw the realisation hit. Ichigo's shoulders dropped, his expression turned despairing. It was a fuck awful choice to be giving someone, but it was all they had. He flashed Ichigo a grin that was probably more about teeth and desperation, and chuffed, "Ya got that little faith in me, heh? What a freaking insult. Get ya ass in gear, Kurosaki. I'll finish this lot off and meet ya back at the 6th."

Ichigo raised his eyes, searching out and finding Renji's. Pain and fury burned deep and hard in their honey-coloured depths. "You'd better, you bastard," he said only just loud enough to be heard over the alarms and shouting and general chaos around them. "If you don't, I'll come back and kick your ass!" And with that he swept his cousin into his arms and ran as Renji sent Zabimaru out to cover his retreat.

Freed from having to protect Ichigo, Renji let loose. Although he'd sparred, this was the first time he'd been able to use his bankai in battle and it was exhilarating. He had never felt so in accord with Zabimaru. The Baboon King spun and twisted, using its spined segments to grind and slice up any that came close, scooping up others in its giant jaws and crunching down on their helpless bodies. When he had the chance, he picked other targets, ones that didn't run, reminding himself of the words printed on the blueprints as he smashed apart walls and roofs; Internment Block 3, lab 15, admin.

He was winning. There weren't enough shinigami to over-run him and none of them alone were strong enough to challenge him. The scent of victory filled the air, buoying Renji up and through him Zabimaru. Even the appearance of a new attack force couldn't quash the feeling. Screaming defiance, the snake swooped down preparing to snap up the newcomers as he had the last.

The blast took both of them by surprise. Renji felt it through his own body. Pressure pounded through him like someone had delivered a thousand punches all at once, rattling his brain and sending him to his knees. Around him the Baboon King's segments thundered to the ground, ripped apart by the power of the explosion. But only temporarily. Renji hauled them back together through sheer force of will, catching the incoming shingami on spine and tooth, and this time he was ready for the way they detonated on impact, using his reiatsu to both shield Zabimaru's great form and to hold him together.

They were still on top, still winning. That had only been a setback. But he should have remembered. The captain in question might not have shown his face yet, but this was still Kurotsuchi he was up against, so it was never going to be a clean fight. Still, now he was more wary, he wouldn't be taken by surprise again.

Another wave of shinigami appeared. Renji whipped Zabimaru out yet again, and just as he did, the ground beneath him erupted.

Half-expecting something of the sort, Renji shunpo'd straight up into the air, out of range of any explosions, and felt a slight pain in his foot as he went. He glanced down, not seeing anything either in his foot or on the ground below, which was strange. Some kind of failed attack? Maybe. Even so, he needed to be more careful.

The snake curved down to catch him before he could fall too far, and he touched down briefly on a segment before shunpo'ing back to the ground, landing with ease on his good foot and setting himself ready for the next attack. Sooner or later Kurotsuchi would appear, and Renji would be ready for him.

"Hm, somewhat cumbersome, but I suppose it is fit for purpose." The voice, smug and oily, was straight out of Renji's nightmares, as was that sickening wavering reiatsu.

He went to spin round, ready to attack, and instead collapsed onto hands and knees as all ability to move his feet vanished. The strange paralysis spread rapidly upwards, stealing legs and hips in quick succession.

"Kurotsuchi," he snarled. Tightening his fist on Zabimaru, Renji flicked it into action, leaving it up to the Baboon King to find the right target. Going by the way Kurotsuchi's reiatsu suddenly shifted, he found it too.

But it was a last gasp. The pain in his foot must have been from Kurotsuchi's zanpakutō. The sneaky bastard. Who would have thought he'd have put himself in the front line like that. Not that it mattered. Renji had done what he needed to do. Ichigo had got away.

Grimacing a smile as numb arms collapsed, Renji sank face first onto the rubble, Zabimaru's huge form settling with him, unable to move without Renji's guiding hand on its hilt.

"Ah, I see you're done now. Well, thank goodness for that. I was starting to worry we'd have to rebuild the other half of the Unit. You'd better be worth it, that's all I can say."

A kick in the ribs sprawled Renji over onto his back. He lay there staring up at the star dotted sky, until something else interposed itself; the insane painted face of Kurotsuchi Mayuri.

Renji blinked at him, and then laughed, the irony of the whole situation suddenly too much to bear. For half a century he'd hidden behind Byakuya's skirts from this man and the very moment he broke away, tried to strike out on his own, there he was again, dragging Renji right back to the beginning.

"You find something about this situation funny?" Kurotsuchi asked, his yellow eyes narrowing in irritation. "I assure you this is anything but amusing. For you, anyway."

"Fuck you," Renji shot back. "Can laugh if I want to." And he did want to. But not as much as he wanted to die, preferably painlessly and quickly. But given that that was not going to happen, laughing seemed like a decent second option. Plus, they'd demolished most of Kurotsuchi's labs, stolen his research, and Ichigo had still managed to escape. That was definitely worth a giggle.

"For now, I suppose you can." Kurotsuchi grabbed Renji by the front of his shihakushō and hauled him up so they were almost nose to nose. "We'll see how long that lasts once I start taking you apart, shall we?"

This close, there was no way Renji wasn't going to take advantage. He spat right in Kurotsuchi's face, laughing again at the resulting screech of outrage and actually enjoying the backhand into the rubble that he got for his troubles. The zanpakutō in the belly was less fun, but enough of those and he'd be dead before the fucker could get him onto a lab table, so it was worth the effort.

He groaned, coughing around the pain in his gut and couldn't help crying out as the blade was worked from side to side and then yanked free. Damn it, if he just had his hands, he'd flatten this bastard in less time than it took to have a piss.

In his mind, Zabimaru was almost frantic, going on and on about bankai and being damaged and needing to reseal himself. Renji let him, feeling the fur fade, the great snake's head vanish, and his reiryoku drop, some of the excess going immediately to the wound in his belly and stopping the bleeding. He opened his eyes and realised he was sitting up, propped against rubble, and could see Kurotsuchi pacing in front of him.

The scientist huffed out an irritated, "Was that your idea or that annoyingly verbose zanpakutō of yours?"

Renji ignored him. Nothing this creep said was worth listening to. Renji just needed to wind him up enough so he got careless and killed him. "Doesn't matter. You lost. We kicked your ass, and that's what counts. Even your trap fucked up and you caught the wrong guy."

"No, it didn't," Kurotsuchi answered, "Like all my inventions, it worked perfectly." At Renji's frown he continued, "Allowing _that man_ to rescue the subject I was finished with, worked precisely as I intended. The trap was set with the perfect bait."

So Urahara hadn't been in on it. Fuck it, Renji was still gonna blame him. "But your research is gone, so's yer Quincy. And you haven't even got Ichigo."

Kurotsuchi's eyes widened. "Ah! So that was why you were so determined to protect them. No, why should I care about them? I've all the samples I'd could ever need from the Quincy and the Shiba boy would attract far too much trouble." He glared at Renji, hands clasped on the hilt of his zanpakutō. "What I want, is what is rightfully mine already. The female your captain stole from me!"

"He never- You cheated, you fucker!" Renji roared. If he'd had control of his limbs, he'd have torn Kurotsuchi's head off for that accusation. "You fucking poisoned him before he even got in the arena!"

Kurotsuchi waved a dismissive hand. "A mere technicality. The important thing is that I had won. That female was mine. Kuchiki was down and out, until he pulled that revolting trick with a zanpakutō that wasn't even his! Now _that_ was cheating!"

How that made sense, Renji didn't know. But still, "Catching me ain't gonna help you get Karin," he said.

"I think you underestimate your appeal," Kurotsuchi shot back with the sort of smile that was normally found on a shark. "Your captain might deny it, but he has a soft spot for you. By the time I've sent him a few choice parts, along with some explanatory footage as to how they were removed, I think there's an excellent chance he'll come to see things my way.

And now Renji did laugh, because Kurotsuchi could not be more wrong if he tried. A few days ago his plan might have stood a snowflake's chance in hell of succeeding. But after what Renji had done yesterday, he'd be lucky if it even attracted Byakuya's attention.


	14. Feel Your Way - Call

With Renji's reiatsu raging behind him, Ichigo put his head down, and ran. Screw stealth. That hadn't got them anywhere. What he needed now was speed. He had to get Uryū back to Ryūken. The quicker he did that, the quicker he could go back and help Renji, because that back there was supposed to be him.

He'd been the one who'd insisted that they went, over Renji's objections. He'd been the one who'd slowed them down so they'd got caught. The one to fuck up his easy kill, to fudge the door lock. The one who'd walked out into the middle of a firefight without a weapon.

He'd been the one without bankai who'd had to have his ass saved yet again.

In his arms, Uryū stirred, groaning softly. Ichigo slowed to a trot and pushed aside the cloak just enough to catch a glimpse of his face. Sweat beaded on his brow and upper lip, and his skin looked pinker than normal.

"Just hang on," Ichigo muttered, worry for his cousin now rising to compete with his concern for Renji. And then there was the kid on his back. Ichigo was terrified of even stopping to check on him. He was half convinced the kid was already dead and he was hauling a corpse around. The hairs on his neck told another story, but that could be nerves as much as the kid's breathing.

They arrived on the top of the Sōkyoku Hill and Ichigo glanced briefly back at the massive cloud of dust and smoke rising from the direction of the 12th before leaping down the side of the mountain and ducking into the cave. Someone was down below. The mat was rolled back exposing the trapdoor and Ichigo yanked it open, letting it slam closed behind him as he dropped into the bright sunlight below.

"Karin!" he was yelling before he hit the bottom. "Oji-san!"

The figures who appeared in answer to his call were blond haired, not dark and silver, but Ichigo recognised them both, and one of them was an answer to just about every prayer he'd made on the way back. "Thank crap!" he said, sliding to halt in front of a surprised looking Kira. "On my back, quick!"

"I don't think I'll-" Kira began as Ichigo released the catch on his cloak, letting the garment swing loose to the ground. "Oh!" he gasped, as the hidden burden came into view. "Oh my, quickly put him down here."

"You're gonna have to help," Ichigo said, wrestling with the makeshift harness and trying to hang onto Uryū at the same time.

"Let me," Urahara said, reaching for Uryū and for a second Ichigo was tempted to hand him over, to watch the scientist's skin blister and melt as a result of another's mad experiments. But then his cousin moaned again and Ichigo remembered the horror on Uryū's face when he'd seen the state of the kid. He hadn't been able to stop whispering apologies as Ichigo had wrestled the unconscious body onto his back.

"Don't you touch him," Ichigo snapped, lowering the cloak draped form to the ground and standing astride him.

Both Urahara and Kira looked at him oddly, but neither said a word in disagreement. Instead Kira helped with the straps while Urahara watched nervously, his hands fluttering from time to time as though torn between helping and taking flight. Eventually, after a minute or two, he said, "I assume since you are alone that not everything went as planned?"

Luckily, Kira had just released the final knot as Urahara spoke, so when Ichigo shunpo'd forwards, grabbed the scientist by the throat and slammed him bodily into the rocky hillside, he was able to catch the unconscious kid before he hit the ground.

Ichigo hardly noticed, he had other things on his mind. "Like you didn't already know," he snarled into Urahara's rapidly paling face. "They were waiting for us! You sent us into a trap, you freaking asshole!" Long slim fingers wrapped around Ichigo's wrist, their tips resting gently over pressure points that Ichigo knew from experience would numb his hand in an instant.

Grey eyes that made Byakuya's seem warm and friendly met his, and Ichigo was forcibly reminded of this man's abilities. "I suspected," Urahara said, his tone calm, "But I did not know for certain."

"And you couldn't have said something?"

"Tell me, Kurosaki-san, if I'd told you it was a trap, would you have gone in to rescue your cousin anyway?"

Ichigo stared at him, confused. "What the hell sort of question is that? Of course I would!"

"Would Abarai have gone with you?"

An image of Renji's face; his disgust and distrust just from finding out Urahara was Ichigo's source of information. If Urahara had told Ichigo it was a trap, he would have had to have let Renji know, it would have been unfair not to. And Renji would definitely have refused to go. Plus he'd have argued against Ichigo going even harder, possibly even gone to Byakuya for back-up, and between them, they could have stopped Ichigo from rescuing Uryū.

"And if Abarai had not been with you tonight, would your mission have succeeded?"

Another flash of memory. Renji leaning over Uryū and shaking his hand. Him stalking out of the cell with Zabimaru drawn and ready. The grip of his fingers on Ichigo's wrist as he shunpo'd for all of them after the alarms went off.

The expression on his face when Ichigo had refused to leave him to fight alone. The look in his eyes as Ichigo had told him he'd be back.

That was enough. With a furious, growling, "You fucking bastard," Ichigo threw a punch straight into Urahara's complacent self-righteous mug. For a brief second he thought the man had dodged, but then came the satisfying impact of flesh against his fist.

"Ow!" Urahara wailed, collapsing at the knees and clutching at his nose, blood leaking through his fingers. "Dat really really hurd!"

"Suck it up," Ichigo snapped and turned his back on the disgusting excuse for a soul, only to find Kira flipping back the hood of Uryū's cloak. "Don't!" Ichigo yelled, lunging towards them.

He was a moment too late. Kira's fingers brushed against Uryū's face and he flinched, yanking his hand back and cursing softly. Ichigo grabbed him and pulled him further away, putting himself in the firing line.

Even from this distance he could feel the pull on the fabric of his body. Instinctively he met it with his own as he crept closer, refusing to part with a single scrap of reishi. The sandy soil around Uryū began to swirl, tiny eddies like miniature tornadoes, and sparking off them, pure reishi.

"Is he doing what I think he's doing?" Urahara called.

Some things were more important than grudges. "Kurotsuchi's fucked with his ability to absorb reishi," Ichigo shot back, leaning over Uryū to flip the cloak over him again. And paused. The slight pink hue to Uryū's pale face earlier had deepened to an angry red like bad sunburn, and small blisters had started to form. It reminded Ichigo of his hands after he'd used a lot of reiatsu with his gloves on.

Crap. It was the cloak. If it stopped Uryū absorbing reishi then it was working exactly the same way as Ichigo's gloves did, and a rash like that all over didn't bear thinking about.

Not stopping to second guess himself, Ichigo tugged the cloak clear of Uryū's body, stopping in a mixture of shock and disbelief as he spotted something like a kidō glowing in Uryū's chest and the sand around them immediately leapt into the air, dancing furiously. What had been small sparks became torrents of disintegrating matter that turned into pure energy. It was like when Ichigo had absorbed the arena barrier but hugely more powerful. As was Uryū's reaction to it. As the energy passed through his skin, he moaned, squirming and arching in a horribly familiar way, his hands fisting at the ground and his dick starting to harden.

Ichigo's cheeks flushed in sympathetic embarrassment and he yanked frantically at his kosode, wanting something to put over his cousin to protect his privacy. Except if he did, Uryū would just absorb it and it'd make him worse. Ichigo's hands froze as the full implications hit him. There had to be something they could do. Uryū couldn't keep absorbing reishi at this rate, it would kill him as effectively as being wrapped in the cloak. There had to be a third option. Some way of restricting the reishi he had access to, something like…

"Sekkiseki!" Ichigo blurted, spinning round to find only a curious looking Urahara several yards behind him. Wherever Kira was, he'd taken the kid with him, which had to be a good thing. He couldn't afford any more damage. "We need to put him in sekkiseki."

"That would seem the logical solution, yes," Urahara said, "and there's a very convenient enclosure made of the very same stuff about half a mile in that direction." He pointed towards a large outcropping that loomed in the distance." However I can't move him, and though you're doing an excellent job of staying in one piece considering how close to him you are, I have a feeling that picking him up may challenge even your resilience."

Damn it, he wasn't wrong. Although there was a good foot between Uryū and where Ichigo was kneeling, the pull on his reishi was constant enough to be painful. Touching Uryū while he was in this state would rip Ichigo apart in no time. And whereas he'd happily suffer the pain of doing it, it was entirely possible he wouldn't actually make it as far as the sekkiseki, even with shunpo. Even wearing his gloves.

There was only one option. Despite the discomfort and damage it caused, it would have to be the cloak again.

Ichigo reached for it, and paused, hand hovering over the dark cloth. Uryū had been wrapped in the cloak for a good half an hour as they broke out of the 12th. Why had it only just started to affect him at they reached the Sōkyoku Hill?

He replayed events, searching for clues. Had Uryū been uncovered at some point? No, Ichigo would have noticed. He'd have been able to see if…

He'd have been able to see.

His brain stuttered over the thought, peeling it apart one fact at a time until it made sense.

When Zabimaru had bounced off the toughened glass, Ichigo had dropped the hood on his own cloak so he could release a getsuga tenshō. And he'd never put it back up. He'd been able to shunpo and sense reiryoku, but he'd still been able to see Uryū, then and every moment afterwards, despite Uryū being wrapped from head to toe in his own cloak and Ichigo not wearing his properly. Which meant that at some point before that, the kidō that let Uryū's cloak make him invisible had stopped working.

Because it had been absorbed. Because Uryū, like Ichigo, could absorb kidō as well as reishi. It had just taken him about half an hour to absorb all the kidō imbued in the cloak completely. And when that was gone, his body had started eating itself. Just like Ichigo's hands did inside the gloves.

Fuck. He should have realised.

Still, that didn't change the fact that Uryū had to be moved and the cloak was the only way to do it.

Ichigo grabbed the garment, tossed it over Uryū's still writhing body, rolling him into it like he learnt to do in first aid classes with people who caught on fire, then scooped him into his arms and shunpo'd for the rock.

Urahara got there before him. When Ichigo arrived he was helping a weak looking Ryūken out of the same super-sized pet carrier thing he'd been in when Ichigo and Karin first found him. From the way he was leaning on Urahara and had his gaze fixed on his feet as he struggled to walk, it was obvious he still wasn't well.

"Right at the back," Urahara said, waving Ichigo past them, just as Ryūken looked up with a worried, "How is he?"

Ichigo shot to the back of the cage leaving Urahara to explain, "It appears my colleague has been playing fast and loose with your son's ability to absorb reishi. Precisely how he's done that and what the long term effects will be are as yet unclear. In the meantime, keeping him enclosed in sekkiseki should ameliorate the worst of the effects. Or at least we can hope. In the meantime, we really should try another…" As they moved further away, their voices faded into the distance.

Lowering Uryū carefully to the stone floor, Ichigo's thoughts echoed Urahara's. This had to work. If it didn't, Ichigo didn't know what else to try. Everything else in Soul Society, except Urahara's cloaks, sekkiseki and wildflower silk, was vulnerable to being absorbed, and the silk, like the cloaks, did too much damage to be a decent long term option.

"Kurosaki, get this thing off me right now," Uryū's muffled, croaky, but unmistakably furious voice said from somewhere close to Ichigo's pectoral.

"Ah!" Ichigo yelped, almost dropping his cousin in surprise. Uryū was awake? He'd been sure he was still unconscious.

With a nervous swallow, Ichigo flicked back the hood to find irate blue eyes glaring at him from a face that was blistering more by the second. "Fuck, sorry, okay!"

A quick glance behind showed Ryūken and Urahara were well clear, so Ichigo released his death grip on the cloak and allowed it fall open, shunpo'ing back a step as Uryū peeled the rest off his reddened skin and tossed it aside.

After it was gone, Ichigo waited for something to happen. For the sand to get sucked in through the front of the cage, for Uryū to start writhing about on the ground again. Nothing did, beyond the steady pull on Ichigo's own reishi at a level he could easily resist, and Uryū scratching furiously at the scarlet weals that tracked up and down his body.

Damn, he was skinny. Ichigo had noticed he was bony from carrying him around, but not how bad it really was. Maybe it was the light, or the lack of clothes? No. Those joints there, at the tops of Uryū's legs, should have muscle around them. They shouldn't be bulging through skin that looked stretched thin enough to tear.

If Uryū noticed he was naked, he didn't make anything of it, and so Ichigo ignored it too. Even a shihakushō would get turned to reishi if Uryū tried to wear it at the moment, and it wasn't like they hadn't shared baths and bedrooms as kids.

After a moment or two of watching Uryū scratch, when his own hands started itching in sympathy, Ichigo pointed out,"You know, that's only going to make it worse."

Uryū froze, then raised his head slightly and glared at Ichigo like he was trying to cause spontaneous combustion. "And what would you know about it, shinigami?"

The smirk that curled Ichigo's lips was one of relief more than amusement. If Uryū was snarking at him like that, then he was going to be fine. Stuck in a stone box and naked, sure, but still 'cousin Ishida', and that was what counted. He lifted his gloved hands to chest height and wriggled his fingers. "I'm the world expert. You're talking to Seireitei's only fully-functioning Quincy-shinigami hybrid. And yeah, I know the blisters itch, but they hurt like fuck if you pop them, believe me."

Uryū snorted in amusement, "Only you, Kurosaki, could give good advice couched in such ridiculous terms." Still, he sat up, crossing his legs tailor fashion and pressed his palms flat to his knees. "Though I'm surprised they're letting you roam free if you can manipulate reishi," he continued. "I was under the impression that the ability made us Soul Society's number one enemy."

"That's where the gloves come in," Ichigo replied absently as a sudden realisation hit him. "Hang on, you _knew_ I was part shinigami? Seriously, was I the only one who didn't?" That was really starting to get annoying.

A heartfelt sigh met his accusation. Eyes fixed on the ground in front of him, Uryū said, "Of course I knew. Ryūken told me after aunt Masaki was killed. Since she was no longer absorbing the excess reiryoku from your father, Ryūken and I had to step in or risk being exposed to Soul Society." A quiet snort was followed by a rueful head shake. "Not that it made a difference. They found us all anyway." Uryū lifted his head, blue eyes intense like fire through glass. "I assume that's how they tracked down your father?"

Ichigo nodded. "I think so. It's not something people want to talk about, so the details are still a bit sketchy."

"I hate to interrupt such a touching family reunion," Urahara called from outside, "but your sister and cousin have arrived."

"Cousin?" Uryū asked with a frown. He was scratching again, digging red furrows into his arm.

"Dad's side. Turns out he's Seireitei nobility, or was before he left," Ichigo said, frowning back at him and watching as nails quickly drew blood. There was something that would help with that, he was sure of it. "And stop scratching."

As Ichigo left, Uryū's hand stopped moving and slowly curled into a fist. "Damn it," he huffed under his breath and glared up at the ceiling. "It itches!"

Karin and Ganju were talking to Kira over by the edge of the outcropping. Ignoring Urahara, Ichigo nodded to Ryūken, who was sitting on a rock looking like he'd rather be lying down on a soft bed somewhere, and headed over to speak to them. As he got close, Ganju spotted him, shot him a disgusted look and elbowed Karin in the shoulder, muttering something in a low voice. She turned and her eyes told Ichigo everything he needed to know.

The last time he'd seen an expression like that on her face, was the day they'd found Ryūken's abandoned car.

Ichigo needed no other reminders. He was stepping into shunpo even as Karin yelled after him to stop.

Renji. It had to be Renji.

He emerged from the cave into the blinding glare of the morning sun. It was a whole new day and Ichigo had left his friend, his lover, to die.

Eyes watering from the brightness of the light, Ichigo brushed his hand across his face and raced for the 12th, guilt lending his feet wings. As he ran, he reached out, searching for Renji's reiatsu. Before it had been a raging conflagration, a scarlet pillar reaching from heaven to earth, unmistakable to anyone who knew him. Now it was gone.

Ichigo hunted frantically amongst the generic flares of mediocre shinigami that made up the vast majority of the Gotei 13. Against those, Renji should have shown up like a spot of blood on a white sheet. And yet he wasn't there. Wasn't anywhere. The grounds ahead were half in ruins, buildings destroyed, bodies all over, but nowhere amongst all the chaos and destruction was there any sign at all of Renji.

He reached the wall of the 12th and would have gone straight over it without a thought if someone hadn't caught his arm in an iron grip and swung him back around on himself, sending him crashing into a pillar and bringing half of it down on his head. He came up fighting, Zangetsu drawn and a getsuga tenshō already releasing. It sang across the broad roadway, splitting paving slabs as it went, and smashed into the wall opposite, sending brick and plaster exploding outward.

"Better?" a facetious voice asked beside him.

Ichigo spun, snarling and punch swinging, only for his fist to meet a hand like a steel girder.

"Not this time, I think," Urahara said, stepping in close and grabbing Ichigo by both hands like he wanted to dance. Fingers closed around Ichigo's wrists, this time actually putting pressure on those points of promised numbness. Zangetsu tumbled from nerveless fingers, and before Ichigo could react with anything more than a sudden intake of breath, a light flashed in front of his eyes and some kind of kidō burned into his muscles, freezing him in place.

"Shibireyubi," Urahara said, as Ichigo found himself hoisted over the man's shoulder like a lanky sack of rice. The ground appeared to move as Urahara began shunpo'ing slowly from roof to roof. "Superior in my opinion to sleeping spells like tanma otoshi as it allows me to have my say while transporting your incapacitated body back to where it should be."

For a dizzying second, Ichigo thought Urahara meant his labs or maybe, if he was lucky, only the 2nd's punishment cells. Then Urahara continued, "If you'd waited for a mere moment, you would have heard what your sister had to say. It appears that she and Ganju were close enough to the 12th to witness the battle and saw when Abarai fell. Since, unlike certain other members of her family, Karin-san uses her brain for thinking, she had the presence of mind to lock onto his reiryoku and thus felt it as it disappeared."

As his body started absorbing the bakudō, Ichigo managed to force out a coughed and desperate, "Dead?"

"No. Of that she's quite certain. Our best guess is that he's been placed in a cell not unlike the one currently housing your Quincy cousin, which suggests Mayuri wishes to keep him safe at least for the time being. In other words, Kurosaki-san, so long as you don't go blundering over the wall and get yourself killed, the situation may yet be recoverable."

For some reason the back of Urahara's dark green haori was covered in scattered strands of short, black, animal hair. Ichigo squinted at them, trying not to throw up from being bounced up and down on the shoulder jammed into his stomach. And thought about what Urahara had said.

Renji wasn't dead. The situation might be recoverable.

Dare he hope? Karin was really good at sensing reiryoku, Ichigo was sure of that. And she'd had a friend die recently so she knew what that felt like. Nor was she the type to sugar coat something just because it was nasty. So maybe hoping was okay. But just hoping wasn't going to be enough. "You… help… him," he managed as Urahara sprang up the side of the Sōkyoku Hill like a mountain goat.

"That I'm afraid will not be possible. There are events afoot that preclude my direct involvement in this affair, however I can rattle a few cages and send out word amongst the unwashed masses of Seireitei. Who knows what may turn up in response to such a rallying cry. In the meantime, Kurosaki-san should worry about his uncle and cousin. We need to get them moved before someone notices I'm harbouring two misappropriated research subjects and tries appropriating them for their own use."

The cave, trapdoor and ladder all followed each other in quick succession, and Ichigo soon found himself being roughly dumped onto a rock. He landed with a thump, his still fuzzy arms and legs sprawling, and gazed up at the fake blue sky painted on the ceiling of this strange, impossible room that belonged to this strange, contradictory guy, and sighed.

He didn't understand. He just didn't. And every time he tried to, it got even more confusing. Maybe he should just lie back and let someone else do the thinking for him. Let others tell him what to do. He'd just hit what he was told to hit.

Gods, he thought with a sigh, that sounded so relaxing.

Karin's scowling face appeared, blocking his view of the painted fluffy white clouds, rapidly followed by Karin's fist snapping his head to the side so all he could see was dusty ground and rocks. He didn't bother dodging. He probably deserved it.

"Idiot! What'd did you run off for?" she yelled.

Ichigo rolled his head back round so he could see her. "Because it seemed like a good idea at the time?" he offered.

"Idiot," she said again, this time without heat, and held out her hand. He flailed for it, managed to get a grip and she hauled him upright, grabbing his shoulder to balance him as he teeter-tottered and almost fell on his nose. The bakudō was clearing rapidly but it was leaving him with that same dizzy high feeling that he always got from absorbing concentrated spiritual energy.

If he didn't take his gloves off, his hands would start itching next. He should have asked Byakuya for some of that cream… Shit! Of course!

"Where's Kira!" Ichigo demanded, staggering upright, and immediately followed the question with a yelled, "Oi! Kira!"

"He's that way," Karin began, pointing off to the right, but Ichigo had felt the slight flare of reiatsu when he'd called Kira's name. He stepped into shunpo, almost tripped over his own feet, and stumbled to a halt the other side of a nearby rock outcropping.

Kira was there, sitting next to the kid Ichigo had carried back from the 12th, his expression desolate and Ichigo could see why. Most of the kid's body was covered in a sheet, but the bits that were showing looked like he'd been used as a dart board.

Ichigo hunkered down beside them, pressing his knuckles to the ground to keep his balance. "How is he?"

Kira tweaked the sheet slightly higher and shrugged. "Not good," he said. "I tried healing him with kidō but…"

"It doesn't work," Ichigo finished for him. "Yeah, that's what Byakuya said about it."

"Did he tell you that if the damage is bad enough, it will never heal." Kira sighed. "Ukitake-taichō's lungs never have, but at least he's stable." He paused, frowning. "Physically, anyway."

Ichigo knew that the 13th's captain was supposed to be nuts, but this was the first time he'd heard anything about his chest. "He was injured by a Quincy?" he asked, hoping for a few more details.

"So they say," Kira replied, raising his head to look at Ichigo. "But you didn't come over here to discuss Ukitake-taichō's health problems. What can I do for you, Kurosaki-san?"

Ichigo spared a quick glance at the kid. Rikichi, wasn't it?

Someone had found a sleeping mat from somewhere, so he wasn't lying on the ground. Maybe Ichigo could help him a little more. "There's this cream," he said, trying to remember what, if anything, Byakuya had said about it. "When my hands reacted to the gloves," he held them up to show Kira, "Byakuya used it to stop them itching. It came in a ceramic jar, about so big?" Cupped palms roughly described the container's dimensions. "The jar was plain whitish, I guess. The cream inside pale green and smelled smooth, kind of cool."

"And it worked?" Kira enquired curiously.

"Yeah," Ichigo nodded. "Like a freaking dream. The itch went off and they started healing up right away."

"Do you have any left?" Curiosity now turned to hope. Ichigo felt like a heel for crushing it.

"No, Byakuya's still got it. I was kind of hoping you might know what it was."

Kira shook his head. "To my knowledge there is nothing that works on this type of injury, so this cream of yours could well be a miracle cure. Did Kuchiki-taichō say where he got it?"

Ichigo thought his face probably looked a lot like a deer's caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. "Not really," he hedged, which wasn't a total lie. He just didn't fancy telling Kira that Isshin had invented it. "But I was going to ask, do you think it'd be good for Ishida too?"

"Your cousin? The Quincy?" Kira asked, one hand going to cover the tips of the fingers on the other, which were pink and angry looking like a mild burn. He'd touched Uryū's face, Ichigo remembered. "I can't see that it would hurt-" he continued, only for a voice to interrupt saying, "You should fetch it. Both of them need all the help they can get."

Ichigo looked up to see Ryūken, propped up by Karin on one side and a resentful looking Ganju on the other. Ganju shot another look at Ichigo, like he was something tracked in on the bottom of a shoe, and Ichigo was really started to find it annoying. He was the guy's clan-head for god's sake. Didn't that count for anything?

"Urahara said the boy was injured by my son," Ryūken was continuing. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"You're also a Quincy?" Kira said, and the edge to his voice could have been dislike or fear, it was difficult to tell.

"I am," Ryūken said, "but first and foremost I'm a healer, and I also trained under a Quincy master in techniques that may be of use in this circumstance. Granted I don't have access to my normal equipment and supplies, but I'd like to try if you'll let me."

Despite his bravado, Ryūken's legs were trembling. If he didn't sit down soon, Ichigo thought, he was going to fall down, no matter who was trying to hold him up.

"Put him here," Ichigo said, leaping up to clear a space.

For a second it looked like Kira might kick up a fuss at having a Quincy so close to his patient, then he sighed and shook his head. "If you say you are a healer, then I suppose I have no choice but to trust you. And you are Karin and Yuzu's uncle. That alone should grant you a free pardon for your race."

"As you being a friend of my niece grants you pardon for yours," Ryūken replied tightly as he was lowered to the ground.

Kira huffed a rueful laugh, eyes flicking from Ganju to Karin, then over towards the sekkiseki cage. "Touche. My apologies, Ishida-san, it's easy to forget that there are criminals and victims on both sides of this war."

"As there always was." Reaching out with a trembling hand, Ryūken touched his fingers gently to Rikichi's shoulder, where muscle was clearly visible through the skin.

As he made contact Ichigo sensed a zing of reishi. Kira made a strangled sound, lurching forwards like he thought Ryūken was killing the kid. Ichigo grabbed at him, but he needn't have bothered. Kira had already stopped, hands still out-stretched, staring in amazement at Rikichi because, where Ryūken had touched, and for about a quarter of an inch around it, the skin was whole. Not healed by a long stretch, it was still angry red and rough looking, but the lace effect was well and truly gone.

"You healed him!" Kira cried, his blue eyes wide and his face lit up with hope. "How? That's supposed to be impossible."

"It is," Ryūken said weakly, leaning on Karin "Unless you use the same method that caused the damage in the first place; reishi manipulation."

Which had taken a whole hell of a lot out of the man, Ichigo could tell.

So apparently could Karin. "Can you keep Rikichi alive now you know there's a chance of him being healed?" she asked.

"I think so, yes," Kira replied, then looked from her to Ryūken, his eyes narrowing assessingly. "Ishida-san, Urahara-san said that you hadn't been well, though he didn't explain in what way. Perhaps if I tended to your injuries first, you would then be able to heal Rikichi?"

"I would be exceedingly grateful," Ryūken said, his whole body seeming to relax in relief. This had been his aim all along, Ichigo realised. Which made sense. Whatever healing Urahara was doing for Ryūken, it didn't seem to be working very fast and they really needed to get everyone out of Seireitei as soon as possible. With Kira on the job, they'd might be able to leave by tonight.

Though how they were going to transport Uryū, Ichigo still didn't know. If Urahara couldn't come up with some solution, it would probably have to be the cloak again, which was going to be agony if they couldn't heal his skin up first.

There was nothing for it, for Uryū's sake and Rikichi's, Ichigo was going to have to steal the cream. Damn, he'd been hoping to put off returning to the 6th until he could bring Renji home with him.

* * *

The division's headquarters were in chaos. Ichigo kept his head down as he walked across the main courtyard; the last thing he wanted right now was for someone to flag him down to talk. It worked, or at least kept people away for the most part. One or two looked like they might try and start something, but a quick, cold glance and they backed right off, running back to their gaggles of friends. There were little groups all over. Not standard for the 6th at this time of the morning. Ichigo was glad to get across the yard and even happier to see Hisana's desk unoccupied. He took the stairs beside it three at a time, stretching his legs for the hell of it rather than using shunpo, because doing that might alert Byakuya, and if there was one person Ichigo needed to avoid completely, it was him.

Because Byakuya was going to go apeshit when he found out what had happened. Plus, if he heard about Uryū and Ryūken, he might just decide they should be sent back to Kurotsuchi.

The captain's office was open and empty. Ichigo slipped inside, heaving a sigh of relief, and closed the door behind him. Now if he could just find the cream and get out again, this might have all been worth it.

But where the hell was the stuff?

Ichigo took a moment to think, looking around the room and replaying that morning when Byakuya had put the stuff on his hands. Somewhere at the far end of the left-hand bookcase, he decided, remembering that Byakuya had stopped there on his way back into the room with the water and cloths.

A quick sortie and he found the pot behind an ornate lacquered case. At least he thought it was the right one. It looked the same. Even so, he should check. Ichigo couldn't imagine anything worse than getting everyone's hopes up and it turning out to be the wrong gloop.

He put the crockery pot carefully on Byakuya's desk and stripped off his gloves, tucking the rancid things in the top of his hakama, which frankly weren't much better. He needed a shower. Hell, he'd needed a shower yesterday after he got back from the Living World and still hadn't managed it. Maybe later. After Uryū and the kid were fixed. After he'd got Renji out.

Because that's where he was going next. On the way to HQ, Ichigo had done some serious thinking, and there were flaws in Urahara's arguments. Okay, so maybe Karin had sensed Renji being put in a sekkiseki cell, but kept alive wasn't the same as being unhurt and Ichigo didn't trust that fucker Kurotsuchi not to do things to Renji just because.

So that's where he was going next. Pick up the cream, drop it off with Ryūken and Kira, and then get Renji out. Okay, so the detail about how he was going to do that bit was sketchy, but it was a plan. He'd work on the rest on the way.

The seal on the pot broke easily. Ichigo twisted the lid off and took a sniff at the cream inside. It smelled the same, looked the same; kind of pale green and shiny. But there was one more thing he could try just to be sure.

He scooped up a finger-full and daubed it on the back of his hand, rubbing it in. The effect was immediate. All day his hands had been sore. Not itchy or painful like they'd been before, but annoying. He'd known they weren't quite right. The cream took that away. The little patch beneath it felt as though it was being bathed in healing reiatsu, which was dumb because there couldn't be any reiatsu there.

But there was reiryoku.

Okay, now that was strange. He hadn't noticed it before.

Ichigo closed his eyes and used his other senses to examine the cream. And yeah, there was reiryoku. But the amount was tiny, so dilute and at such low levels it might as well not be there at all. Totally out of proportion to the effect it was having.

And the reiryoku itself was odd. Not shinigami, that was certain, it was more like Ryūken's or Uryū's except purer. Clear and clean and white, just like that reiryoku Hanatarō had fed him along with the kidō when the sōtaichō was testing him. That had made him as high as kite. This was healing him. So what was different?

"I was under the impression that you were to always have the negator with you before you removed your gloves."

Ichigo spun, pot clasped in his hands. Damn it, he'd been focusing so hard on the cream, he'd missed Byakuya coming up the stairs. "Err, yeah," he stalled, trying to think of an excuse. "I erm… I got itchy so I left him in quarters to…" His words trailed off as a shaking Hanatarō appeared from behind Byakuya. He hadn't noticed him either, but then he wouldn't have. The little negator moved around the world like a spot of negative space. Ichigo couldn't even get a reiryoku reading off him.

And he was completely impervious to Ichigo's Quincy abilities. Which meant he'd be able to touch Uryū!

"You may leave us," Byakuya was saying to Hanatarō, who was bobbing his terrified little bows as he starting reversing out of the room.

Ichigo, totally without thinking, said, "Hang on a minute."

"You have a problem with the negator being dismissed?" Byakuya asked blandly.

Yeah, he really did, because if Hanatarō left then Ichigo couldn't send him to the bolt-hole with the cream and instructions to help anyway he could. Course, he couldn't exactly say that to Byakuya. So instead he blurted, "Hanatarō. His name's Hanatarō. You shouldn't just call him 'negator'."

The look he got for his trouble could have frozen oceans. By the door, Hanatarō had started apologising for existing and if he bowed any deeper, any faster, he was going to pass out, Ichigo was sure of it. Still, Ichigo wasn't going to back down. This was important. Maybe as important as the cream.

For long moments Byakuya stared at him, and Ichigo stared right on back, tightly controlled reiatsu roiling between them, until finally Byakuya blinked, dipped his chin infinitesimally and turned towards Hanatarō. "Yamada, I said you are dismissed." And damn, Byakuya knew his surname? Ichigo had forgotten he even had one.

"Yes, sir, I'm sorry, sir, it's all my fault, sir," was still coming from by the door, interspersed with wet gulping noises.

"Then leave."

"Yes, sir, sorry, sir."

The kid was stuck in a loop, Ichigo realised, and shouting at him'd only make it worse. Glancing between the panicking Hanatarō and a Byakuya who was looking more and more irritated by the second, Ichigo made a decision. "Look," he said to Byakuya, "You probably want know what's going on. So let me sort this little guy out quickly and I'll come straight back and tell you everything."

Grey eyes narrowed. "And if you decide to go with him?" Byakuya asked, as though Ichigo was always disobeying his orders.

Which, okay, yes, Ichigo had to admit, on occasion he had been known to play fast and loose with things Byakuya said, but this was different. This was about Renji. "I won't. I promise."

After another long moment Byakuya lowered his gaze, picked up the top piece of work from his to-do pile and began reading it. "See that you do not," he said.

Permission granted, Ichigo grabbed Hanatarō by the shoulder and steered him quickly out of the room, closing the door firmly behind him.

The stairway was as good a place to talk as any. Ichigo peered over the rail to check there was no one listening below and said, "Remember that bolt-hole Renji and me talked about?"

It took awhile for Hanatarō to get himself back under control enough to answer. Ichigo always forgot that, even if he couldn't feel Hanatarō, the kid was hypersensitive to the moods of people around him, and getting caught between Ichigo and Byakuya having a stare-down couldn't have been much fun. But eventually Hanatarō managed to stutter, "The o-one beneath the S-Sōkyoku Hill, sir?"

"Yeah." Ichigo held out the pot of cream. It was minus its lid but that didn't matter. "I need you to go there and give this to Kira. You know Kira, blond guy with a droopy face from the 4th?"

Hanatarō took the cream but was still shaking from head to toe. "I'm sorry, sir, the only people I know from the 4th are Unohana-taichō and seventh seat Iemura. They were rarely needed at the 8th since Ise-sanseki is very skilled in healing."

"Right, yeah." Ichigo had forgotten that the kid had been a virtual shut-in before he'd come to the 6th. "Well, you can't miss him. Just yell Kira and he'll answer." He bent down so his face was on a level with Hanatarō's. "Look, I know you're scared, but I really need you to do this for me. I'd do it myself but Renji…" Ichigo stopped, the full horror of it suddenly hitting him all over again. Renji was back there, with Kurotsuchi, with no one to watch his back. Deep breaths, that was the answer.

He tried again. "Renji got caught at the 12th and I need to get back out, so-"

"I'll do it." Apparently he'd used the magic words or something. Hanatarō straightened up, hands clutching the pot to his chest, and Ichigo didn't need a facial expression to know how the kid felt. Determination to succeed was written in every line of his body.

"Course you will," Ichigo said, patting him on the shoulder as he stood up. "And while you're there, tell Kira about me not being able to absorb reishi off you, okay? There's someone down there who might be able to use your help."

That earned him a little bow and a, "Yes, sir," that sounded way more confident than it had before. Then Hanatarō was off down the stairs.

Ichigo leaned on the rail to watch him go, and was about to return to Byakuya's office when another figure appeared from under the landing. Tall, elegant, and strawberry blond, there was no mistaking who it was. Matsumoto stopped at the bottom of the stair, frowning up at Ichigo for a moment before she turned to say something to her escort. They nodded and stepped back leaving her alone to climb slowly up to meet him.

For a second Ichigo was tempted to bolt. She was going to say things, he just knew it. For starters he'd dumped her at the 3rd and done a runner, and still hadn't a clue as to how he was going to explain that. But he couldn't just leave. She was his responsibility.

"How are you doing?" he asked as she reached the top. She looked tired but not as stressed as she had been. Hopefully that meant she had good news. Ichigo couldn't even remember when the 10ther's grace period was up. The days were merging into one long blur of stress and no sleep.

"I'm fine," she said, the small frown on her brow belying her words. "I was just coming to tell you actually; the captain of the 3rd's offered me a place."

"That's great," Ichigo said, flashing her a genuine smile. If anyone deserved a safe haven, it was Matsumoto. Plus being at the 3rd put her back with Yachiru again, which was cool.

"It is. I'm really happy about it, and I couldn't have done it without you. Or Abarai… " Her frown deepened. "There's been rumours but I didn't want to believe them. Has Kurotsuchi really taken him?"

Damn, she'd overheard. "Yeah, but not for long," Ichigo replied. "I need to straighten some stuff out with Byakuya and then I'm-" He bit the words off, remembering at the last minute that you didn't share stuff like that with people. Especially not people from other divisions. Matsumoto was 3rd now, one of Ichimaru's, which made her the enemy. "It'll be fine," he finished lamely. "You okay to get back to the 3rd by yourself?"

"Of course," she said, serious for another moment, and then her expression brightened and a wicked smile lit her eyes. She leaned in slightly, pressing one slim hand to the top of Ichigo's arm, and nestled. "And anyway, who said I was going alone?"

Oh god. Ichigo closed his eyes and dropped his chin to his chest, trying not to feel the warm softness pressing up against his folded arms. He wasn't going to look, not at her face and not at the rest of her either. She was just a friend, nothing else, and he wasn't that sort of guy! He wasn't!

A waft of something rich and enticing filled his nose, followed by breath that felt cool against his burning cheek. Then lips fluttered over the thin skin beside his ear and Matsumoto murmured, "I'll not forget what you did for me, Ichigo. Thank you."

Why couldn't floors open up and swallow you when you wanted them to? He couldn't extract himself without touching her, and if he touched her, he really might die of embarrassment on the spot.

Never had Ichigo been so grateful to hear the office door slam open in his life.

"I have to go," he said, opening his eyes but keeping them fixed on her, very pretty, face.

"Really?" Matsumoto pouted at him, her bottom lip glistening pinkly.

He swallowed, mesmerised by it and totally unable to move, until Byakuya broke the spell with, "I am waiting, Kurosaki."

A hand on her shoulder and he eased himself away. She let him do it, then suddenly darted in and planted a firm kiss on his cheek. "Too sweet," she laughed, and dashed off, waving back at him as she ran down the stairs.

He stared after her, gob-smacked. That woman was nuts, but in the best way possible.

Still grinning on the inside, Ichigo turned towards the office. And his good humour vanished immediately. Byakuya was glaring at him like he knew Ichigo was personally responsible for all the crap that was about to come his way. He wasn't wearing the kenseikan, Ichigo realised. His hair was tucked behind his ears and the style made him look different. More vulnerable.

That was the only thing about him that did. With a cool look, Byakuya swept back into his office, the message loud and clear. Come and explain yourself.

Fuck. Ichigo fixed a scowl on his face and stalked towards the door. This was going to be no fun at all.

Byakuya was back working at his desk when Ichigo got there, looking like he hadn't got a trouble in the world. Only the slightest tremor in his reiatsu gave him away. No one else would have noticed Ichigo thought. The guy was a master at burying everything.

As Ichigo came in, he pushed the documents aside and folded his hands on the desk. Ichigo closed the door, and stood glaring at the floor, waiting for the interrogation to start. Despite what he'd said, he really didn't feel like volunteering information. The less Byakuya knew, the better, probably.

He didn't have to wait long. "I assume you were involved in Renji's sudden decision to challenge for the 12th?" Byakuya said.

A challenge? That was what they thought was going on? Well, yeah, Ichigo guessed they'd have to. If you didn't know there was someone in there to rescue, you'd never see it as a rescue mission.

"I thought it some kind of spiteful rebellion until I remembered the boy-"

Ichigo jerked, eyes meeting Byakuya's in shock. Did he know about Uryū?

"- and your upset over losing him. I presume, since you are here and Renji is not, you succeeded in rescuing the little traitor."

Not Uryū. He meant Rikichi. Ichigo was off the hook. If Byakuya didn't know, Ichigo wouldn't have to fight him to stop Uryū being sent back.

But Byakuya wasn't finished. "Tell me, was it worth the price?" he asked, and his eyes were cold enough to make Ichigo shiver. Reiatsu licked at Ichigo's skin like the touch of a blade along with every scathing word. "Abandoning a friend, so one who testified against you could go free?"

Ichigo clenched his fists, scowl deepening. 'It wasn't like that-'

"A man who trusted and trained you, defended you, for a snivelling snake who would have sold out anyone to preserve his own skin."

Teeth ground against each other as Ichigo fought to keep himself in check. 'It wasn't-'

"For that you would leave a friend behind to die!"

"It wasn't like that!" Ichigo finally bellowed back, words tumbling over each other. "It wasn't! I didn't leave… I had to. He couldn't carry both of them!"

"Both?" The full weight of Byakuya's reiatsu slammed into him. Ichigo's knees started to buckle under the pressure, but he wasn't going down that easily.

He snarled, shoving back against it. "Yeah, I said both. Now get off, you fucker!"

"You will explain." The reiatsu vanished, whipped back in tight.

Ichigo staggered a step, caught himself on the edge of the desk with one hand, and scowled at Byakuya, who looked like he was about to take tea, not halfway through an argument, the bastard. Though it was all surface. Underneath, his reiatsu was seething like flat water over a strong current, which meant this had to be really getting to him.

Which made sense, Ichigo guessed. He had to be as worried about Renji as Ichigo was. Sure they'd broken up, but even Ichigo could tell it wasn't real. Not really. Byakuya just sucked at expressing how much he cared. So maybe, if Ichigo got this right, Byakuya would help him get Renji back. There had to be a way, even if it meant a formal challenge. And that was something only a captain could do.

How had it all started anyway? With Ichimaru, Ichigo guessed. Which… crap, that wasn't going to work. Ichigo knew damn well that even hearing Ichimaru's name would shut down any chance of Byakuya listening to the rest. Same thing with bringing Urahara into the mix. So, he'd tell a lie or two. Just small ones.

"Karin heard a rumour," Ichigo began, "that Kurotsuchi had someone important to me and her." And then he wove his story. It wasn't a very good one, 'cause he sucked at lying, but it was good enough. Urahara's help became good luck. Ryūken's escape, fate. Then came Hanatarō, Renji, and the run itself. Told like this, the trap seemed more obvious. It made Ichigo look dumb for wanting to do it, and mean for using Hanatarō to force Renji's hand, and Ichigo didn't care. Not if it made Byakuya help him, not if it got Renji out, and anything that might help with that was gonna be played right up.

So when he came to Renji's last stand, Ichigo went for it. Elaborating on how Renji insisted on staying behind, the way he'd said it was up to him to cover Ichigo's back. How he'd ordered Ichigo to look after Uryū and not to hang around trying to help him when Ichigo didn't even have bankai.

When Ichigo finished, he stared at his feet and waited for a reaction. Any reaction. When nothing happened after a moment or two, he sneaked a look at Byakuya, and might have been looking at a marble statue. Even his reiatsu had closed down. Gone was the seething mess of hidden emotions from before, now he was like ice; absolutely opaque and unmoving.

Ichigo swallowed nervously. Had he fucked up in the telling? He didn't think so. He'd not over exaggerated Renji's role. He was a big damn hero for doing what he'd done and letting Ichigo get away. All Ichigo had done was make sure that bit stood out from the rest of the shitty mess.

Still, Byakuya was slow taking the bait. By now, he should have been offering to help.

Finally, finally, the ice prince moved. A flick of grey eyes and Ichigo was caught up in a staring contest again. "Tell me," Byakuya said, "when you first had word of this, why didn't you bring it to me?"

Ichigo blinked at the question. He hadn't even considered it, and Renji hadn't said anything. "I didn't think you'd care," Ichigo said. "I mean, you didn't care about Rikichi, so why would you-"

"That shinigami!" Byakuya began at a volume that had Ichigo taking a nervous step back. At his reaction, Byakuya stopped speaking, inhaled deeply through his nose and started again a bit more quietly. "That shinigami was an outsider who had already proven himself deceitful and opportunistic. Your cousin is a different case entirely. From what you say, he was innocent of any wrong doing and was brought to Seireitei under duress."

"But," Ichigo said, "he's a Quincy."

"And so to all intents and purposes are you. Why do you think there were so many who objected to your being elevated to citizen status and why we have tried so hard to keep your real identity a secret. In Soul Society memories are long, and of those who do not personally remember the last war, many are old enough to recall the stories of parents or grandparents. To allow a Quincy to walk among us unrestricted is anathema."

Ichigo hadn't heard of any war, but he'd kind of realised from Kyōraku's reaction that Quincy weren't exactly welcome in Seireitei, which was why he hadn't told Byakuya about Uryū and Ryūken in the first place. "So why -" Ichigo tried again.

"However," Byakuya cut in, his hand coming down onto the desk with a sharp slap, "Quincy though he may be, he is also your cousin. You are the Shiba clan-head, installed and acknowledged by all of Seireitei. As a relative of yours, it could be argued that he too is a noble and thus owed protection. If nothing else, a legitimate bid could have been offered and defended!"

"But I couldn't bid against Kurotsuchi -"

The hurt expression in Byakuya's eyes stopped Ichigo from saying any more. "You think that I would not have done so on your behalf? That, had you brought me this information, I would not have moved mountains to discover the truth of it rather than allow yet another innocent to remain in that man's hands. Have I not said again and again that I loath and detest him with every fibre of my being. Did I not lay down my own life to keep your sister from his hands. And yet still, you could not trust me enough to tell me of your cousin?"

Ichigo stared at him in utter disbelief. "How the hell am I supposed to know a thing like that when you chuck kids out on the street to die?"

And now it was Byakuya's turn to look shocked. "I would never-" he began, and Ichigo was all over that. Damn nearly crawling on the table so he could get in Byakuya's face, he yelled, "So what about Rikichi! You ordered Koji to throw-"

"That shinigami is not a child," Byakuya shouted back, coming to his feet and slamming both hands down on the desk. "He is a serving member of the Gotei 13, and as such is responsible for his own behaviour-"

"Fuck that, he was terrified!"

"As he should have been given his appalling behaviour."

"Appalling behaviour?" Ichigo threw up his hands. It was that or punch Byakuya, and that never led to anything good. "I just… I don't fucking believe you, I really don't. He's about Karin's age and you expect-"

"Forty, at least," Byakuya said, right over the top of him.

Ichigo stopped, frowning. "What?" Was that supposed to make some kind of sense, because if it was, he'd missed the memo.

"While you persist in seeing these things through human eyes, you will continue to misunderstand." Byakuya wasn't shouting any more, but Ichigo could tell that he had a point to make and wasn't afraid of making it. "The age of a shinigami is not necessarily reflected in their appearance. That 'child' was recruited by the 10th approximately three decades ago, which means he is likely at least forty."

Which made him about the same age as uncle Ryūken.

Ichigo's world tipped sideways. Faces flashed through his mind: Yachiru and the kids she'd been sparring with at the 3rd, Rikichi, Hanatarō.

Logically he knew they weren't kids in human terms. Looking at the others, they couldn't be. Hinamori had known his dad. Renji said that Matsumoto had been a shinigami twice as long as he had, which made Matsumoto well over a hundred. But Yachiru still played like a little girl, and when Rikichi had stumbled over his testimony in front of the sōtaichō, he'd been as terrified as Keigo in middle school the morning those thugs had threatened to kill him. And then there was Hanatarō. Ichigo didn't have a clue how old the little guy was but he'd still spent most of life shut up in one division, and when Hisagi got in his face down at the Pits, Hanatarō had damn nearly pissed himself in terror.

So no, shinigami weren't humans, but however many years they had, kids were still kids.

"Fine," he snapped, "not age then, experience."

Byakuya opened his mouth, presumably to come up with some smart-ass come back, only to shut it again and glare at something over Ichigo's shoulder. "The timing of this could be better," he said cryptically and lifted a hand.

A hell butterfly fluttered past Ichigo's ear to land on Byakuya's finger, flick its wings and announce, ""For: Kuchiki Byakuya, captain, 6th division. From: Kurotsuchi Mayuri, captain, 12th division. Message begins.

Kurotsuchi, sounding oddly distant, replaced the generic voice saying, "… terribly inconvenient these things. Take a memo, Nemu, look into propulsion units to up the carrying capacity of - Oh, it's started already. See that that first part is deleted."

As Kurotsuchi cleared his throat portentously, Ichigo glanced at Byakuya wondering if they were thinking the same thing. A message from Kurotsuchi had to be bad, right? No way would he bother if he was just gonna let Renji go. Was he going to demand Uryū back in exchange? He could go hang. If that was the case then Ichigo'd find some other way of getting Renji back.

"Kuchiki," Kurotsuchi's oily tones came loud and clear now. "I have something of yours, something which I might be persuaded to part with if the price is right. But before we start negotiating properly, a small demonstration of possession and intent, I think."

An agonised bellow that had to be Renji erupted from the butterfly. Ichigo glimpsed Byakuya closing his eyes and turning away, as Ichigo dropped his chin to his chest and bit his lip. He knew how much it took to make Renji hurt, the guy had skin like stone and obstinacy to match.

Fear made the next part almost funny. It was Renji again, but this time you could hear every word and he sounded as pissed as hell. "Bastard! I'm gonna fucking kill you! Byakuya don't listen to him!"

Renji's yelling cut off abruptly, followed by something that sounded like a scuffle with things breaking and then Kurotsuchi saying, "Idiot, I told you not to remove the controller." More sounds of fighting and then nothing for a moment or two.

Finally Kurotsuchi spoke again, "As you heard, Kuchiki, your boy's mine now, and I'm preparing to carry out some of those interesting modifications I mentioned during our challenge bout. I'm sure you remember that. The one where I beat you fair and square until you cheated with that filthy zanpakutō trick."

Ichigo opened his mouth to protest, only for Byakuya to gesture him into silence. He stalked towards the door, unable to stay still for a moment longer.

"Given my loss of research materials, I propose a simple exchange: your boy for the Quincy-shinigami female."

This time Ichigo wouldn't be silenced, "No way, you sick fucker!" he snarled, thumping his fist on the side of a bookcase.

"It's not a difficult decision, however I know you're a busy man so I won't expect an answer right away. You've got precisely three hours before I start the first set of surgeries. If I haven't received an affirmative by then, I'll send you the bits I've removed by special delivery."

"Message-" The flat of Byakuya's hand hit the desk, the butterfly a squashed splatter beneath it. He was breathing hard, head down, his hair falling over his face and Ichigo could see his other hand clenching and unclenching at his side.

"So?" Ichigo said, "What do we do?"

For a moment Byakuya didn't move, then he slowly raised his head and stared straight at Ichigo. "Do?" he said and the edge to his voice made Ichigo think of sharp things, like Senbonzakura in full flight. "There is nothing we can do."

"What the hell do you mean by that?" Ichigo demanded. "We can't just leave him in there! Kurotsuchi's going to cut him up!"

"You would have me turn your sister over to him instead?"

"What? No!" Course he didn't mean that. "Something else. There's got to be something… A formal challenge. Bid for him! You can do that."

"Impossible," Byakuya retorted. "Renji has bankai. A very obvious, very public bankai, which Kurotsuchi spent half his compound to prove existed. I cannot bid for him. No one can bid for him."

"There has to be something," Ichigo said again, staring wildly around the room. "We'll fight. If it's both of us, we can take Kurotsuchi even on his own ground."

"I am a captain," Byakuya replied, expression tightening. "Such an act would be treason. We would both be arrested and imprisoned, and then who would protect your sisters." He was pulling himself together, Ichigo could see it. Hardening himself. He'd done it in the arena when Unohana had bid for Yuzu. But then it had been himself he was writing off, this time it was Renji.

Ichigo was getting desperate. "Well, we can't just leave him in there!" he shouted.

"Perhaps you should have thought of that before you blackmailed him into joining you," Byakuya shot back.

The truth hit Ichigo like a punch to the belly. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Bile rose in his throat and for a brief horrible second he thought he was going to throw up. Because Byakuya was right. This was all his fault. It had been a trap, but not one designed to catch Ichigo, and so Ichigo hadn't thought twice about leading Renji straight into it, and then leaving him there. Because he'd been so caught up in his own self-importance, hadn't thought anyone would want to trap Renji.

Fuck, how could he have been so stupid! So shortsighted.

"If either of you had half the native wit you were born with, you would never have allowed this happen in the first place." Byakuya stood straight, now icy in his calmness. As he turned his back on Ichigo, he said, "I wash my hands of the pair of you. I've no use for anyone who could do something so foolish."

It was like being given permission, except it was the complete opposite. Because if Byakuya wasn't prepared to fight, Ichigo was the only one left who could.

"Fine," he said, striding towards the door and feeling an odd sort of icy calm himself, "Then I'll go and rescue him myself."

As he left, he heard Byakuya call, "Kurosaki?" Then more loudly, "Kurosaki, you will return this instant." And finally, as Ichigo leapt over the rail to the floor below, an almost panicked shout of, "Ichigo!"

Ichigo ignored him and kept walking.


	15. Smack it, Whack it

Still stuck contemplating tumbled towers and piles of masonry well over an hour later, Ichigo finally had to admit that he was stumped. The trouble was, in doing so much damage, Renji had been his own worst enemy. Sure he'd made huge holes in the 12th's defences, but now their shinigami were crawling all over the place trying to put it all right again, and getting past them was going to be a bitch.

Looking down at the totally trashed grounds though, Ichigo had to grin. Renji really had done a number on the place. And if Ichigo imagined the blueprints superimposed over the rubble, it was even better. That building over there, for example, used to be Internment Block 3. With any luck some of the inmates had managed to do a runner when Renji ripped that damned great hole in the side of it.

Knowing others might have got something out of his mistake helped assuage Ichigo's guilt a little, and reinforced his belief that Renji was a big damned hero and much better than Ichigo at keeping his head during a battle.

But that hero was now stuck under all that rubble somewhere, inside a sekkiseki cage and at Kurotsuchi's mercy.

A quick glance up at the sun made Ichigo's belly contract with fear. He didn't have long before the mad scientist got his sick shit together and started cutting. If he hadn't already. Ichigo didn't exactly trust the guy not to be lying about that sort of thing. Hell, Renji might already be dead and Ichigo would never know.

Scrubbing at his eyes, he tried to clear his thoughts and wished he'd managed to get an hour or two last night. But he couldn't afford to sleep now, not until he got Renji out. Damn it, he couldn't afford to sit around like this either! _You got any ideas, old man?_ he asked, directing the question inward. It was a pretty vain hope, but he had to try something.

Zangetsu stirred and Ichigo got a sense of unease from him. _I'm sorry, Ichigo,_ he said, _The 12th is a closed book to me. But I can sense Zabimaru. They seem to be as trapped as their master but all are still alive._

That was something, Ichigo supposed, a deep yawn catching him off guard. He stretched and rubbed his eyes again. It was no good, he needed to keep moving.

Hitching Zangetsu back onto its strap, he stood up and dropped off the back of the roof he'd been sitting on. Maybe one more circuit of the grounds would turn up something he'd missed. Like maybe some clue as to where underground Renji was being held.

Karin would be able to tell, she was good at that sort of thing. And how unfair was it that she could do stuff like that when Ichigo's sensor abilities were for shit. Most of the time he be more likely to fall over the person he was looking for than sense their reiryoku.

A few minutes later, distractedly leaping from one tower to the next, he proved his own point by tripping over someone he hadn't even noticed was there.

It felt like the roof tile flew up to meet him. Ichigo hit it face first and skidded, bouncing across the roof and only just catching the edge as he plummeted over it. Because, shunpo or not, a hundred foot was a long way down.

He clung onto the overhang with one hand, studiously ignoring the drop beneath his feet while his heart rate slowly returned to normal, and introduced the air to some colourful language.

"Ran-chan says words like that aren't nice," a high voice said from above him.

Ichigo looked up into a curious frown, dimples and pink hair. And had an explanation as to why he hadn't seen who he'd fallen over. "Hey, Yachiru," he said. He didn't really know the kid, but she'd seemed okay when she'd been with Matsumoto. And anyway, she was a kid. What harm could she do, really.

"Dandelion-head!" she grinned happily over the edge of the roof. "What you doing, Dandelion-head?"

"Oh, just hanging around," Ichigo replied, ignoring the nickname as he kicked out for a foothold and failed to find one thanks to stupid Seireitei architecture. Who the hell needed a seven foot overhang on a roof, anyway.

Little fingers that were way stronger than they should be, wrapped around Ichigo's fingers, prying one off the tile before moving on to the next. "What the hell!" Ichigo squeaked, flailing to grab on with his other hand because… hundred foot drop!

"Flying's fun" Yachiru chirped, "You should learn to fly, Dandelion-head!"

"No! No, Yachiru! No! Bad girl!" He might as well have been talking to himself for all the notice she took. And she was damned ruthless when it came to stamping on anything she could reach with her feet as well.

Just as she got to the last finger on the second hand, and Ichigo was convinced he was destined to end his days as shinigami paste a hundred feet below, several reiryoku signatures flashed into existence around him and a voice said, "Yachiru! What do you think you're doing, young lady?"

Yachiru's face pulled into a petulant frown. "Flying lessons!" she yelled and yanked.

"Holy shit!" Ichigo screeched as he lost his grip and plummeted off the roof. This was it; a final messy, squishy death. He fell, fast, for about five feet, before being brought up short by the back of his shihakushō, and tossed back onto the roof.

For a long moment he clung to the tile, heart thumping wildly in his chest. Somewhere close by, he could hear Matsumoto scolding Yachiru, who was protesting that she hadn't been trying to kill Dandelion-head, just teach him how to fly.

Well fuck that. Ichigo didn't want to be around when she did decide to kill him. He might not survive it at all.

"Are you alright, Kurosaki-sanseki?" a voice, prim and familiar, enquired just above his head.

It sounded like Ise Nanao, but what was she doing here? Ichigo levered himself up on shaking arms to say hi, and ended up face to face with Hisagi for the second time in twenty-four hours.

This time his reaction was less warrior-like.

"Wah!" he yelled and flailed away from hollow eyes and scars and that freaking terrifying grin. He'd have gone back over the edge too if Hisagi hadn't reached out, snagged him by the kosode and dragged him further onto the roof. Ichigo let him, feeling more than a bit like a mouse that a cat had caught and still wanted to play with. Maybe if he pretended to be dead, Hisagi'd leave him alone.

"My goodness that was close. You do need to be careful, Kurosaki-san."

This time it was Ise who appeared in his line of sight. He blinked up at her, body still caught between fight, flight and playing dead. Her face was red and swollen all down one side, but she was nothing like the mess she'd been after Ichigo had hurt her, thank god.

She must have noticed him staring. Her hand went to her cheek and she blushed slightly. "Your captain sent some cream which worked exceedingly well."

That cream again. What the hell was in it? He should ask Byakuya some time because at the rate they were getting through it, Ichigo was going to have buy refills. But that wasn't important. "I'm really really sorry," he said, because that was what he needed to say to Ise before anything else at all. "I didn't mean to do that to you."

Her blush deepened, but her lips thinned. "I know you didn't, which was why I told my captain to stop over-reacting once I realised what had happened. Honestly, I've never seen Kuchiki-taichō so upset."

"He was?" To Ichigo he'd just seemed mad. But then the whole thing with Ise had gotten caught up in the mess at the 10th and after that everything had gone to hell. He sighed and, since Hisagi had lost interest, took the risk of sitting up. "Anyway, I'm really sorry."

"Apology accepted. Now, are we going to do something about Abarai-san or not?"

It was a good job Ichigo was further from the edge otherwise he might have fallen off the roof again when Ise said that. "You're here to help?" he demanded, scrambling to his feet. And she wasn't the only one.

He knew about Matsumoto and Yachiru being around, which at least made a kind of sense since Renji had helped rescue them. And he'd seen Hisagi, though who the hell knew why he was there. For the fight maybe? And was he even allowed out on his own? But that wasn't all. Standing over by the ridge tiles were Take and Kou from the 6th, which, okay, Ichigo kind of got that one too, though he was a bit worried they'd get busted again. And beside them was Fūra, the guy from the 10th who was supposed to be going back to Iba-neesan this morning.

The last two people were Hinamori-fukutaichō and another small dark-haired woman who he'd never seen before in his life. "Who the hell are you," he asked, as she turned towards him with a sweet smile and a polite, "Pleased to meet you, Kurosaki-sanseki."

Oh, now he knew who it was. "Hey, you look just like your-" he began, realising his mistake as violet eyes flashed and she snapped, "Do not finish that statement! I am nothing like Hisana, and you'd better remember it!"

"O-okay." She might deny it, but her temper was just like her sister's, if not worse. Not that Ichigo was dumb enough to say anything. He learnt that lesson years ago at Tatsuki's hands, and her feet. "Not Hisana, got it. So have you got a name? Or should I just call you shinigami-san?"

"Don't be so rude," she replied coldly, "My name is Sagara Rukia, seventh seat, 13th division, not shinigami." Then, face hardening just like Hisana's did when you asked her for a favour, she added, "And don't think I'm here to help you, or your stupid friend either."

"Then why are you-" he began and got stamped on for his trouble. Ow! Ichigo grabbed his foot, hopping up and down trying to rub the feeling back into his toes. What the hell was she wearing? Stiletto waraji?

"Because my sister asked me to, idiot!"

"Eh, Rukia-san?" Hinamori said, and wham, the sweet polite girl was back again.

"Do you need something, Hinamori-fukutaichō?" she said, all smiles and kind eyes.

If Hinamori found the way she acted strange, she didn't say anything. "It's just that we probably should hurry. We don't have a lot of time."

That was truer than she knew. Ichigo was about to explain why, when someone behind him said, "This is amazing."

Ichigo looked round to find that Kira, along with Ganju and Hanatarō, had turned up as well and apparently were just as surprised by the impromptu rescue squad as Ichigo. "Aren't you lot supposed to be busy," Ichigo grumped, starting to feel more than a bit trampled by this whole thing.

Ganju glared at him, but Kira smiled lopsidedly and said, "The cream you sent worked like a charm. Between that and your uncle's efforts, Rikichi is out of danger. Your cousin as well, though Hanatarō was helping him more than me." He looked around at the others, "So we thought we might be of more use here. And I must say, it's very impressive. When Matsumoto said she was going to put feelers out, I had no idea she'd manage to rouse so many in Abarai-san's defence."

Which was a damned good point. "Hinamori-fukutaichō?" Ichigo said, eyeing Rukia warily as he spoke. "Not that I'm not grateful for the help, but why are all of you here for Renji?"

"I'm-" Rukia began.

Ichigo cut her off, "Except Rukia. Who's only here because her sister told her come, not because she gives a damn about- OW!" She'd kicked his shin this time, goddammit.

"Stop making it sound like I don't care!"

"But you just said-!"

"That was different!"

"Kurosaki-san! Rukia-san!" Hinamori shouted over the top of them in a voice that made both of them freeze, though Ichigo did have to dodge a sneaky elbow to the ribs.

When she had their attention, Hinamori continued, much more quietly and with a polite little bow. "The answer to your question is both yes and no, Kurosaki-san. Yes, we are all here to help rescue Abarai-san, but that is only part of it. You see all of us here have also been threatened by the 12th at some time, and to be honest, we've had enough of them pushing everyone around. When Matsumoto sent word about what had happened, we all decided it was about time someone showed Kurotsuchi-taichō that some people in the Gotei 13 are willing to stand up to him."

A murmur of agreement came from the others as they began gathering around.

Including Ichigo himself and the new arrivals, there were twelve of them altogether. Two of lieutenant level, three third seats, one fourth and a seventh. The others were all unseated, but Ichigo knew from experience that Take and Kou were good in a fight, so the others probably weren't bad either.

But the real miracle wasn't the numbers. It was the shinigami themselves. Twelve individuals from six different divisions, and despite all the shit that everyone talked about not trusting anyone outside your own unit, here they were. A loose alliance to take down something that threatened them all. Common currency found in fear.

It was amazing and, as he watched them come together and start to plan, sharing ideas and strategies, Ichigo got the feeling he was seeing the birth of something completely new for Soul Society. It was scarily fragile, one mis-step and it could end up trampled under foot, but it had the potential to change the whole freaking world.

* * *

Ichigo picked up his pace, aware of the others close behind. Reiatsu boiled around them like a thunderstorm rolling down from the mountains, powerful, unstoppable, a force of nature bent on cleansing everything before it. Was this how it always felt to march into battle? In Ichigo's hand, Zangetsu sang his eagerness, and the butterflies in Ichigo's belly were nothing compared to the joy in his heart at finding friends to fight beside him.

They'd insisted he lead. "He's your lieutenant," Hinamori had said, "You should take point."

Ichigo glanced back, not able to resist having another look. They spread out behind him like a train or personal guard. Matsumoto first, with Yachiru on her shoulders, deadly serious despite the little girl pink they both wore. Behind them, Hinamori and Rukia, tiny and determined, hands ready on their zanpakutō as they marched beside Kira and Ise, with Ganju and Hanatarō hurrying along on their heels. Between them walked the unseated. Not destined to be thrown to the wolves this time, but protected by their more powerful colleagues. And finally Hisagi, moving separately along walls and roofs, but still a part of the group in his own silent strange way.

They'd decided, after much discussion, to go straight in through the front doors. No one had argued for discretion. All of them agreed that if this was a public statement, a 'screw you' to Kurotsuchi and his torture chambers, then it needed to be loud and proud. They wanted people to know what they were doing. They wanted to be acknowledged.

Their combined confidence carried Ichigo forwards, up the steps of the 12th to the great doors. Lowering his zanpakutō before him, he gathered his reiryoku, readying it to unleash an attack that would blow the things off their hinges.

"Getsuga tenshō!" Reiatsu burst out of him, blasting through Zangetsu and on into those great imposing doors. They didn't stand a chance. Power sliced through them and the lintel above, exploding all into loose masonry and choking dust.

They were in!

Ichigo surged forwards, hope building, the others on his heels. This was their chance, their vindication. Rescuing Renji was just the start. After Renji there'd be others. The stolen kids, the ones snatched off the streets. The ones-

"Halt!"

The power of the voice alone almost drove Ichigo to his knees. The scorching reiatsu that followed it, did so. He crashed to the floor, body creaking under the pressure, knowing he wasn't alone. Not a single one of their little group managed to keep their feet in the face that overwhelming force. But then none of them were captain level.

The sōtaichō emerged from the clearing dust cloud like an avenging spirit, and on his heels came Renji, head bowed, crimson hair loose around his shoulders, his shihakushō torn and tattered. But alive, and still standing.

For a brief second Ichigo hoped: the sōtaichō had realised the injustice; he had come to rescue Renji himself; Ichigo had been scared half out of his mind for no reason.

And then he saw the chains; heavy shackles that bound Renji at neck and wrists, the links joining them stretching back to Okikiba-sanseki, who stood to attention behind his captain, chain in one hand, the sheathed Zabimaru in the other.

Beside them stood the judge from Central 46, the same one who'd presided over Ichigo and Renji's trial. And finally, several steps behind them all, lurked Kurotsuchi, muttering to himself and shooting filthy looks between the judge and the sōtaichō.

"What is the meaning of this display?" the sōtaichō demanded, his reiatsu pressing down even heavier. Ichigo was finding it increasingly hard to breath and he heard someone cry out in pain. It might have been Hanatarō.

A glitter of suspicion shone in the sōtaichō's eyes and he flicked a glance at Ichigo's hands and then over towards the others, harrumphing at whatever he found. "I'm surprised you of all people stood by his word, Kurosaki," he admitted. "A small point in your favour, I suppose." Had he been checking to see if Hanatarō was there? And what did he mean about being surprised? Had he expected Ichigo to disobey him?

The pressure of the sōtaichō's reiatsu dropped from bone-crushing to just suffocating. Ichigo forced his muscles to obey and pushed himself stubbornly to his feet. "We came to rescue our friend," he said.

"Your friend, eh?" the sōtaichō snorted. "Nonsense talk. You're a shinigami, boy, not some human soul out in Rukongai. In any case, you're too late. Central 46 was alerted to the situation several hours ago and since Abarai is on parole for previous offences, he has been detained for punishment."

He raised his voice and, as he began to speak, Ichigo noticed the hell butterfly hovering beside him. The sōtaichō was making a Seireitei-wide announcement. "To all captains and vice captains. Abarai Renji, former lieutenant of the 6th division of the Gotei 13, has been found guilty of breaking his parole. Since he is unable to make adequate financial recompense, it has been decided that the original sentence of blood price will be enacted.

"Tonight at sunset on the Sōkyoku Hill he will stand to receive twenty five strokes for the crime of trespass and twenty five more for breaking parole. Attendance for all captains and vice-captains is mandatory by order of Central 46."

"Fifty strokes?" That sounded like a fuck of a lot. Ichigo glanced back at the others and saw their panicked faces. That made his mind up for him. "You can't! Fifty will kill him. Let me pay, I have the money!"

"Yes!" Kurotsuchi called, "An excellent idea. Let the fool pay, and for the damage Abarai caused here as well. I can't rebuild my compound with blood, you know."

Without acknowledging either of them directly, the sōtaichō smacked his staff into the ground and said, "Silence. A decision of the Central 46 cannot be challenged. Sentence will be carried out today at sunset."

As the sōtaichō spoke, Ichigo found his own gaze fixing on Renji, torn between relief that he was out of Kurotsuchi's hands, and terror at what he was facing now. Was it any better? Ichigo honestly didn't know.

Perhaps Renji felt Ichigo's eyes on him or perhaps it was just luck. Either way, Ichigo was staring right at him when Renji lifted his head. His face was bruised and he had blood streaked down his cheek from a split above one eye, but he was smiling. It was bloody and toothy and as smug as fuck. As Ichigo watched, Renji flicked his eyes towards Kurotsuchi and mouthed, "We won."

Won? For a long moment Ichigo couldn't parse what Renji meant. It wasn't until the sōtaichō thumped his staff again and the entire group turned away, that Ichigo got a clue. Renji thought this was a good outcome.

Ichigo's belly churned. It wasn't. It couldn't be a victory. Because if they'd won, Ichigo wouldn't be standing here helpless while Renji was led away, his crimson hair like streaks of blood down the back of his black shihakushō.

If this was a good outcome then no one would be telling Ichigo he had to watch Renji being beaten for a crime he only committed because Ichigo blackmailed him into it.

Two steps of shunpo and the group were gone. Ichigo stared after them, at the space they'd left behind, the rubble from the demolished gate and the slice his getsuga tenshō had taken out of the stone beyond, not knowing what to do next. Where the hell had it all gone wrong? One minute the whole world had been at their feet and the next, the whole thing had fizzled out like a damp squib.

"I'm sorry, Ichigo," Matsumoto said quietly, her shoulder brushing against his arm as she came to stand beside him.

He glanced down at her and mustered a smile from somewhere. "S'ok. Thanks for trying, anyway."

She smiled back sadly, nodded and left, taking Hinamori and Yachiru with her. The guys from the 6th went next, and Fūra had already vanished, presumably to the Pits and Iba-neesan. Ise patted his arm and said something about not worrying too much that Ichigo was too far gone to hear, and Rukia took one look at his face, shook her head and stalked off. She might have muttered something about idiots. By that point Ichigo didn't care.

Hisagi stayed perched on a nearby roof like he was still waiting for the fight to start. Ichigo stared up at him. He should probably say something. Tell the guy the fight was off, that he could to go home like the others.

Someone smacked him hard on the shoulder. Ichigo staggered as the hand tightened into a solid grip and Ganju snarled, "Hey, ya miserable bastard, yer friend's out of the 12th so whatcha pulling a face like that for?"

Ichigo grimaced and shrugged Ganju off, temper rising. "Everyone just gave up when the sōtaichō appeared," he scowled. "We fell apart like wet toilet paper."

"Course you did. They ain't suicidal."

But they could at least have tried! Damn it all, _he_ should have tried. There must have been something better than just giving up!

"Ganju's right, Kurosaki-san," Kira said, appearing on Ichigo's other side. "However much everyone might want to save Abarai-san, they won't stand against the sōtaichō."

Between them, they gripped Ichigo firmly by the upper arms and turned him around. He briefly considered fighting but what was the point? Renji wasn't here anymore, so there was no reason to stay.

The journey back to the bolt-hole was too long and too busy. They kept to the rooftops mostly but even that wasn't enough to avoid everyone. It was midmorning. Seireitei was bustling. Every second corner had its gaggles of civilians, and nothing, in any world, travelled as fast as gossip.

By the time he reached Sōkyoku Hill, Ichigo wanted to hit someone, hard, and he was starting not to care who. He just wanted to feel that satisfying impact of fist against something solid. It was easy for Kira and Ganju to say it didn't matter what people said, but it did to him. Renji was not some 'dumb brute' who'd 'taken advantage' of a 'vulnerable young noble' and then turned on him like a 'typical, faithless gaki'. Renji was a competent captain-class shinigami, who always put everyone else before himself and was more than capable of leading his own division… who'd only gone into the 12th because Ichigo had blackmailed him into it.

Shit.

Karin greeted them at the bottom of the ladder with a face like thunder.

Ichigo brushed past her, stalking out into the lifeless scenery of Urahara's strange false room. The last person he wanted to see right now was Karin. He'd probably end up saying something that'd push them apart completely. And he'd already lost Renji. And Byakuya. And his father and Yuzu and fuck, losing someone else at this point might just break him.

On top of that, his hands felt like he'd stuck them in itching powder again. Right now, he needed to be alone. Needed a chance to take a breath and take stock, and get these damned stupid torture devices off.

Finding a place to hide beneath a steep overhang, Ichigo unsealed his gloves, flung them on the ground and pressed his forehead to the stone, trying to force his temper back under control.

A beating.

He'd seen movies. And not the kinky kind. Historical movies where people were beaten as punishment and, okay, Renji wasn't human, his skin was way tougher, but even so…

Ichigo shuddered. Was what he was imagining any better than being left in Kurotsuchi's hands?

The image of Renji's face slunk from the back of Ichigo's mind, his grin victorious and mouthing the words, 'We won!'

Did Renji really believe that? And if he did, was it Ichigo's place to argue with him?

It wasn't, but that didn't stop Ichigo from feeling like the worst piece of filth in existence. It didn't stop him blaming himself for what Renji was going to have to suffer, or from regretting the carefully targeted words he'd used, the ones that had been so effective because Renji had trusted him with all his weak spots. What sort of shitty friend abused a trust like that? What sort of a shitty person did that?

Someone who was desperate, he thought to himself. But at best that was only a reason, not an excuse, and he knew it. Sure, he'd wanted to get Uryū out from the 12th but, no matter what Urahara said, he'd had no right putting anyone but himself at risk to do it. He should never gone to Renji. Definitely shouldn't have guilted him into helping. And definitely, certainly, should never have left him behind to face Kurotsuchi alone!

Doing that made him scum.

He didn't even realise he was punching the rock until someone grabbed his sleeve and Ryūken's voice said, "That's enough."

Ichigo froze, momentarily confused by where he was and what the hell he was doing. That was, until the pain hit.

Fire shot up his wrist and he hissed, snatching his hand back from Ryūken, who'd been cradling it in his own and manipulating the fingers gently. The skin, already inflamed from the gloves, had lacerated over his knuckles and the impacts against the rock had ground dirt into the exposed flesh beneath. As Ryūken caught the hand up again, Ichigo stood, just breathing. Blood dripped onto the dusty ground between them in an irregular pitter-patter of drops. It was a mess, the wrist and finger joints already beginning swell. And it was his right hand as well. His sword hand.

Ichigo stared at it stupidly, and all he could think was that Byakuya was going to kill him if the damage turned out to be permanent.

Plus it was so stupid. Ichigo knew he could punch holes through small buildings and not get a scratch if he used reiatsu to protect himself. So why hadn't he then? Had he wanted it to-?

"Does this hurt?" Ryūken asked, pushing against the base of Ichigo's thumb without warning.

The pain crescendoed. Ichigo went up on his toes, sucking in a breath and still couldn't hold back the cry that escaped, his voice rising in pitch in a way it hadn't since he passed puberty. "Fuck, yes!"

Ryūken shot him a sceptical look but stopped pushing. "It'll be fine. You haven't even broken the wrist, though not through lack of trying."

Not broken? It felt broken. Like someone had taken a hammer to it and crushed the bone into fiery splinters.

As Ryūken relinquished his hold, Ichigo hugged his hand to his chest and muttered, "Your bedside manner sucks."

"I reserve the proper one for patients who don't have self-inflicted injuries," Ryūken immediately shot back.

They glared at each other, neither willing to give ground, an experience so familiar that for a moment Ichigo was catapulted back into his childhood and the numerous bangs, breaks and scrapes his uncle had been called in to treat. He'd never had any sympathy when they'd resulted from Ichigo doing something stupid, but when it meant something, like when he'd got his nose broken standing between those bullies and Chad, his uncle's hands were always gentle and his eyes momentarily lost their chill.

Right now they could have deep-frozen a volcano. Ichigo huffed and looked away. Okay, so he'd been dumb punching the rock, there was no point in rubbing it in. Ichigo felt bad enough already without adding to his misery.

Except Ryūken wasn't done apparently. "Feeling guilty for events outside of our control is singularly foolish," he said. "Everyone's life is their own to lead as they will. Your friend made his own choice when he went with you, and again when he fought on to allow you and the others to escape. That he has now chosen to bear the cost of the rescue alone should have earned him your respect, not your childish regret."

No! It wasn't like that. Except…

Ichigo sagged, shoulders dropping and gaze hitting the ground. Because, damn it, put that way he could totally see the disservice he was doing Renji. All his getting mad on the way back at people running the guy down and Ichigo had been doing the same thing in his own way - not giving Renji credit for his power and abilities. For his decision to take a punishment that Ichigo knew he'd accept on his own shoulders in heartbeat if their roles were reversed.

He scrubbed at suddenly gritty eyes with the knuckles of his good hand and sighed, "You're right. If he'd really wanted to stop me, he could have told Byakuya, and he didn't. And he volunteered to stay behind, so yeah…" He glanced up under his lashes. "Thanks."

Ryūken's chin dipped slightly but Ichigo could read more in the way his eyes thawed. And he was struck yet again how much like each other Ryūken and Byakuya were. You had to work so hard to get even a glimpse of approval from either of them but somehow that just made it all the more worth trying for.

Ryūken, though, looked much frailer than Ichigo had ever seen Byakuya, even after his close brush with death in the arena a few months ago. In comparison, Byakuya had looked hail and hearty back then. You could only have said that about Ryūken if you compared him with Uryū, and he still looked heaps better than he had earlier.

In an odd sort of parallelling comment, Ryūken cut through Ichigo's reverie with, "When was the last time you ate? Or slept for that matter? You look terrible."

"Erm…" Ichigo replied, frowning as he tried to organise his thoughts. He hadn't slept last night, or much the night before. And though Hanatarō had brought food while he and Renji planned the raid on the 12th, Ichigo didn't remember eating any. Apart from that, there'd only been the barbecue at Iba-neesan's place, which he'd had to abandon halfway through.

If he looked at it objectively, given how little he had eaten and slept in the past forty-eight hours, it was no wonder he was reacting badly to this whole crapfest.

"Since your cousin and your friend are out of immediate danger, you should take advantage of -"

"Uryū's okay?" Ichigo said, latching on to the only important bit of information in what had been shaping up to be a lecture.

"He's…" Ryūken paused as though selecting his words carefully. "He will be," he finished finally. "Why don't you come and see for yourself."

Uryū was okay. Still naked and in the sekkiseki pet carrier thing, but awake and being fed lunch by Hanatarō. The others were eating around a little campfire close by, and when Ichigo and Ryūken joined them, the latter still moving way too carefully for Ichigo's peace of mind, food was handed to them as well. Even thought his appetite had been completely wiped out by exhaustion and all the shit at the 12th, Ichigo took the bowl with a nod of thanks to Karin. He suspected someone might set Hanatarō on him next if he didn't at least try and eat something.

The chopsticks proved a bit of an issue with his hand. Broken or not, it was still damned painful. After he'd wrestled with them for a minute of two, he heard an irritated sigh and Kira said, "Let me see that."

Healer, right. Ichigo shot a quick glance at his uncle, who was deep in discussion with Karin and Ganju. They were talking about that evening and moving Ryūken and Uryū while Renji's punishment kept everyone distracted. It sounded like a decent plan to Ichigo. The sooner they were out of Seireitei the happier he'd be.

Leaving them to it, he put his bowl down and shuffled over to Kira. "I punched a rock," he said, holding it out and trying not to look at the mess he'd made. It hurt but, compared to Uryū and Rikichi, it was nothing and it made him feel like a fraud accepting Kira's help. He'd do it though, because he was going to need two good hands to help Renji, afterwards.

"So I see." Kira's gaze shifted briefly to Ryūken and then back to Ichigo as he said, "But I daresay you've already had that lecture."

An astute healer with a decent bedside manner, Kira exuded 'trust me' vibes like no one Ichigo had ever met before. They definitely seemed to work on Karin. Despite everything, she seemed to trust Kira implicitly.

Ichigo was less sure. This was still the guy who'd stolen Yuzu from the 6th's camp on the day of the challenges and taken her to the 4th. Sure he'd done it on his captain's orders, and Yuzu was absolutely fine about it, which was the only reason Ichigo hadn't kicked his ass the next time they'd run into each other. But it showed that Kira couldn't be trusted completely when his orders sent him against his friends.

On the other hand, he'd also been the only one, apart from Ichigo and Byakuya, who could quiet down Renji after he was badly injured in his losing bout against Yamada-fukutaichō, so there had to be something else going on there as well.

But what?

As Kira's hands took on the green glow of healing reiatsu, Ichigo decided to rip apart the whole bag of worms. "I don't get why everyone's so willing to help him," he said. "Renji, I mean. Back there, everyone just glossed over it, like it happened every day, but it doesn't. This the Gotei. You're 4th division, he's 6th. Why'd you care what happens to him?" And yeah, that sounded a bit harsh, but Ichigo was tired, damn it, and today totally sucked.

Kira raised an eyebrow and focused on Ichigo with surprising strength behind his pale blue eyes. "Yes, I am 4th division, and that's why I came here when your 6th division sister sent word that you might need a healer. But my division's got nothing to do with my relationship with Abarai, Kurosaki-san. I'm his friend and beyond that, I owe him." He gestured for Ichigo's hand.

"Owe him?" Ichigo said, holding out his injured hand as flat as he could in front of him. "Did he save your life or something? I didn't think the 4th and 6th fought together."

"They don't," Kira agreed. "This was before we joined the Gotei 13. It's a long story that I won't bother you with now, but the brief version is that Abarai and I were pitted against each other in a fight to the death. He beat me, and instead of killing me as he was supposed to, he knocked me out.

"But more than that, he made it a good fight. The right people noticed me and I was allowed back into Seireitei and my family name was returned to the files as one of the minor noble houses." Kira smiled sadly, his eyes fixed on Ichigo's hand as he began healing. "So yes, I owe him and not just my life. Everything I am today is thanks to Abarai-san. Without him, I would have died nameless in the desert and my house would have died with me."

Ichigo swallowed thickly. It wasn't the same as him and Byakuya, but there were enough similarities in the story that Ichigo knew exactly what sort of a debt Kira was talking about.

As healing reiatsu sank into his injured hand, and the pain began to recede, Ichigo felt his exhaustion finally catch up with him. His eyelids drooped and he started to sway like he'd had a few too many bowls of sake. At some point he must have laid down because he had a vague memory of cloth under his cheek and fingers carding through his hair, and just before everything faded to nothingness, a soothing voice saying, "And he led me to my captain, which is a debt that I may never be able to repay."


	16. Police Me

"Kurosaki-san?" A pause. Ichigo thought about moving but sleep dragged him back down with warm sticky paws.

"Kurosaki-san?" Louder and with more determination. It was Hanatarō. There was no mistaking that voice. The kid always sounded like he was apologising for existing.

Then, "Quit pussy-footing around, idiot! This is how ya wake a Shiba!" Ganju. If Ichigo had been more with it, he'd have rolled his eyes.

Even so, for someone brought up on Isshin's good-morning flying kicks, Ganju's elbow drop was stupid easy to dodge. Waiting till the big guy was in the air, Ichigo casually rolled over and sat up, making a big display of yawning and scratching his head, and ignoring the loud thud and moans of agony from behind him. If he'd ever had any doubts that Ganju was his cousin, that settled them.

A faked stretch turned into a very real one and Ichigo went with it, feeling stiff muscles ping and twinge. He wasn't completely slept out, but at least he was down to just bone-deep exhaustion. The surreal edge to the world, that came hand in hand with forty eight hours of almost no sleep, had faded.

Though, in retrospect, he didn't remember actually dropping off. In fact the last thing he remembered was the soothing pulse of healing reiatsu as Kira, after a disapproving frown, fixed his hand. Ichigo blinked open still-heavy eyelids to check the injury out, flexing his fingers and rolling his wrist.

It was easy to see why the guy was a fourth seat. Even with a sleeping patient, Kira had done great job. There wasn't even the residual stiffness the 6th's medics often left behind.

His gloves were on the ground beside the sleeping roll. Ichigo picked them up and was busy putting them on when Hanatarō said, "Kurosaki-san?"

Right. He'd forgotten the kid was there. Ichigo squinted up at him. The little guy was hovering nervously, all but wringing his hands. "I'm sorry to wake you, sir," he said, "but it's only two hours until sundown and Kuchiki-taichō -"

Three hours. "Shit!" He needed to get back to the 6th before Byakuya sent out a search party. But first he needed to find Karin. He didn't want her leaving before he'd had a chance to say goodbye.

Ichigo scrambled to his feet, stepped over Ganju, who'd stopped moaning, and went to find his sister. He caught her halfway up the exit ladder. "Oi!" he called, flash-stepping up to meet her in the little cave above the secret training ground. "I thought you were helping with the move?"

Karin stopped with an irritated huff and glared up at him. "We need supplies. Ji-chan thinks he can keep Uryū stable enough, but if Hanatarō's with you, we're going to have to use the cloak again."

Oh crap! Ichigo hadn't thought of that. Hanatarō was supposed to be their secret ace when it came to moving Uryū.

He looked back to see a hooded figure labouring up the ladder after them. "I guess I could-" he began.

"Don't even think about leaving him behind!" Karin shouted over the top of him. "He told me about your parole. Do you want to end up like Abarai-san?"

She was right. And the sōtaichō was bound to be there for Renji's punishment and with the way he'd looked for Hanatarō earlier, Ichigo couldn't take the chance. "Fine," he said, grudgingly. "So what are you going to?"

Karin, looking a bit mollified by the speed at which he caved, huffed again and said, "Ji-chan thinks a shihakushō might be resilient enough to withstand Uryū's abilities, but break down quickly enough to stop him getting hurt by the cloak."

That made sense. Or as much sense as anything else. Ichigo had just been glad to see Uryū sitting up and eating earlier, even if it had been slowly and with help. Maybe if he could still get some reiryoku that way, he'd be able to control his ability to absorb it from around him.

"You going to the quartermaster?" Ichigo asked.

Karin glared her feet. "No. I'm going to the 13th. Kira's meeting me there. He had to go back early."

And prepare for this evening, probably. Ichigo wondered in passing who'd be sent as witness in Ukitake's stead, before turning his thoughts back to Karin's decision. Going to the 13th rather than the 6th made sense. The quartermaster's monthly records always got close scrutiny from Byakuya and the last thing any of them wanted was more awkward questions.

"Can I go now?" Karin asked, though really knowing her as well he did, Ichigo could tell it wasn't so much a question as a snarky complaint.

Still, he played along. "I guess," he said, casually. "Just don't do anything dumb, okay?"

That made Karin splutter. "Dumb! Coming from you! Argh, I swear Ichi-nii!" Whatever she was thinking, it never made it past her lips. Growling under her breath, she stalked off, stepping into shunpo as she reached the ledge.

Ichigo stared after her into lengthening late afternoon shadows, lost in thought for a long moment. They were leaving. Sure Karin would be back, but the others… He'd hardly had a chance to reconnect and they were going again. It would have been nice to spend some time with his uncle and cousin and instead he'd fallen asleep. And now? Now, he really did need to get back. Byakuya would definitely be looking for him.

Hanatarō reached the top of the ladder and stood, leaning on his knees and panting hard. It took Ichigo a second to work out why. "Hey," he said, "You can't shunpo!" Then he frowned. "How the hell did you even get up here?"

"Kira-" Hanatarō began.

Ichigo waved him silent, "No. Earlier." He'd totally forgotten Hanatarō's lack of shunpo when he'd sent him on ahead with the cream.

"Oh!" Hanatarō's tone brightened and Ichigo could imagine the edges of his nervous smile. It was strange, the longer he spent in the negator's company, the easier it was to forget the kid didn't have a face. "Matsumoto-san brought me. I gave her directions but it still took us forever to find the ledge."

Ichigo controlled a flinch. Someone else who knew about the place? At this rate Urahara's secret bolt-hole wasn't going to be so secret anymore.

"That was alright, wasn't it, Kurosaki-san?" The anxious note was back in Hanatarō's voice. "I didn't know how else to get here and you seemed to think the cream was important."

"It was fine," Ichigo said. If Urahara didn't like his sudden new popularity, he'd just have to move or something. He reached out and grabbed Hanatarō's shoulder. "You did exactly the right thing. Now hang on tight. We're running late."

* * *

The 6th was quiet when they got back, though more the silence of soldiers under siege than them enjoying downtime. Having sent Hanatarō off to scrounge him up a clean uniform, Ichigo headed straight for the division's baths. He wasn't fit to be seen, let alone smelt, by anyone. He almost made it as well. His hand was on the door to the men's side when a someone called, "Kurosaki-san!"

It was Hisana. She shunpo'd across the courtyard and fetched up next to him, hands on hips and glaring. "Why didn't you sign in?"

"Erm…" Ichigo hedged. He didn't fancy telling her the truth, that if he had then Byakuya would find out he was back, because that way lay lectures.

"Anyway," she said, "taichō wants to see you. Immediately," she added when he waved a hand at the baths. "No excuses."

Ichigo's shoulders dropped but he knew an order when he heard one and when to pick his battles. If Byakuya wanted to see him straight away, he'd just have to put up with the smell.

Obediently he followed Hisana back across the yard, wondering what Byakuya might want, apart from to shout at him on principle for walking out earlier. He'd better not try and stop Ichigo from being there this evening. Strictly speaking as third seat, Ichigo wasn't required to attend, but that wasn't going to stop him. He owed Renji, big time, and if the only way he could repay him was by standing witness to his punishment, that was exactly what Ichigo was going to do.

"They brought Zabimaru to him this afternoon," Hisana said quietly after a minute or two of silence.

Ichigo frowned, his thoughts so caught up with Renji that for a moment he thought she meant they'd given Zabimaru back to him. "To Byakuya?" he said, not caring for once that he was using such a level of informality. There was no one close enough to overhear and it wasn't like Hisana didn't know they'd been sleeping together. "Why?"

"As Renji's captain, it's his responsibility to hold his zanpakutō until the punishment's over." She turned to him, huge purple-blue eyes luminous. "Is there any word yet on who is carrying out the punishment?"

Had anyone said anything? "No, I don't think so."

"Oh," she said and her shoulders seemed to sink lower. "I'm worried about him, Ichigo. Fifty strokes is a lot."

The fact that she'd used his first name made Ichigo do a double take. She must be worried if she was letting her manners slip like that, but at least he could offer some comfort. As he'd been heading back, he'd suddenly remembered a relevant detail from his history class. "I dunno," he said, "Renji's skin is pretty thick and fifty strokes was considered light punishment back in the day. I'd say he got off easy."

"Easy?" Hisana gaped at him for a second and then shook her head. "I thought you at least would be sympathetic," she snapped and then, with a sniff, strode off ahead, leaving Ichigo to catch up. He hurried after her, more than a bit confused. Maybe they hit harder in Seireitei than they did in old Edo? But surely, even if they did, it would take more than fifty strokes with a light cane to kill Renji.

Byakuya was standing looking out of the window when Ichigo was shown into his office. Zabimaru lay across his desk, the hilt and sheath still darkened in places with Renji's blood. Ichigo looked at it and swallowed hard before raising his gaze to Byakuya's. He was met with a look as steely as the blade.

For the longest moment they stared at each other, simultaneously bound together and torn apart by the same thing; Renji. And then Byakuya wrinkled his nose. "You stink," he said.

"Yeah, well, I was on my way to the baths when Hisana caught up with me," Ichigo replied, trying and failing to keep the belligerence out of his voice.

It had a predictable effect on Byakuya. He bristled like an irritated cat, stalked across the room to put his desk between them, and said coolly, "You will attend this evening. I will have no excuses-"

"I wasn't planning on missing it!" Ichigo snapped back and then immediately regretted it. He scraped a gloved hand through his hair, desperate to keep this from turning into a fight. They were both hurting too much already. "Look, it's my fault this whole stupid fuck up happened, so of course I going to be there."

Silence. Byakuya shuffled papers from one pile to another while Ichigo waited for whatever the riposte was going to be. Finally Byakuya raised his head and said, "Then you may go. I will expect you at the division gate in one hour."

That was it? He'd been dragged away from his bath for that?

Any other time and Ichigo would have said something. Hell, yelled something probably. But not now. Not today. Teeth clamped tight around his temper, he nodded a shallow bow and strode from the office.

This time he made it halfway to the bathhouse before he was intercepted. Or rather, before he spotted a couple of guards heading towards him with a purposeful stride.

It was tempting to duck out of the way, but over six months of training under Renji and Byakuya had drilled a strong sense of responsibility into Ichigo for his position in the 6th. So instead of avoiding them, he walked towards them.

They were a mismatched pair. The one on the left was a tall woman with blond hair cut in short bob and a wide generous mouth that quirked up at one corner like she couldn't stop smiling. The other was a guy, smaller than his counterpart, with more normal black hair cut close to his head. His only defining feature were thick brows that ran together across his forehead. Both their faces were familiar, but Ichigo didn't know either personally, which meant they had to be unseated and not on his personal guard rotation.

As he drew close, he realised there was a third person between them. Short, with straggly mousy-coloured hair, it was Shin, the last of the refugees from the 10th.

Crap, tonight was the night wasn't it! The three day grace period Byakuya had given them ended at sundown. And Shin was still here, which meant he hadn't been offered a place. Were they about to throw him out?

Ichigo lifted his chin, ready for a fight as the guards came to halt in front of him.

"Sir," the woman said, dipping a deep bow. The other followed suit, and as she came up, the woman poked Shin saying, "Well, here he is. You've been moaning all day that you needed to speak to him - If you don't mind, sir?"

"Course not," Ichigo replied and waited for Shin to say what he needed to. After what Karin said about him being a snitch for Ōtoribashi, Ichigo wasn't falling over himself to take the guy. On the other hand, he wouldn't see him thrown to the vultures either.

Shin shot her a baleful look and then turned to Ichigo. "Shiba-sama," he began, and then dropped to the ground, pressing his face into the dust. His words came out gabbled and desperate. "Forgive this unworthy dog who's not fit to crawl in your noble presence, but I beg you, sir, can you use your sword to end me? I ain't got the guts to do it myself, you see, but if they throw me out, the 12th'll get me and I don't want to die like that. No one deserves to die like that, sir, please-"

"For goodness sake, that was what you wanted to ask him?" the female guard interrupted. She leaned down and hauled Shin to his feet. "There was no need to bother an officer with that, we'd have done it for you. All you had to do was ask, you fool." As she spoke, she was turning away and taking Shin with her, and Ichigo could see it all spooling out just like what had happened to Karin's friend. A quiet 'suicide', an honourable funeral, no questions asked.

"Wait!" he called, before they got more than a few steps way. He wouldn't have let them get that far except it took him that long to wrap his head around it. "You don't want to live?"

The little group stopped. Shin's head stayed down, his hair hiding his face. "It's not an option, sir," he said quietly. "Ain't no one'll take me after what I used to be. They don't trust me, see."

Which was understandable but not a good reason to condemn someone to death. Ichigo bared his teeth, thinking furiously. He couldn't offer Shin a place at the 6th, but there was one option that would keep him alive. "I'll take you," he said quickly before he could second guess himself. "As a guard for the Shiba clan, if you want. You won't be a shinigami any more though, so maybe I dunno, maybe we can find you-"

"I'll do it," Shin said, head coming up. His face, pale though it was, was a picture of utter relief. "Frankly, sir, I'd have taken a job emptying yer chamber pot rather than risk the 12th."

Ichigo didn't blame him, though that actually gave him an idea. If things went badly like Hisana thought they might, Renji was going to need help while he healed, and they were still both out of Byakuya's quarters with all the services it offered. Sure Hanatarō was useful, but it was unfair to use the little guy as a gopher when that wasn't his job. Ichigo didn't like the idea of having someone waiting on him, but he'd learnt quickly that Seireitei was set-up with servants in mind, and trying to get by without one when you rose past a certain rank wasn't easy. "Do you… mean that?" he asked a bit hesitantly.

A frown skated across Shin's narrow face and he swiped at his mouth with the back of one hand. "About the chamber pot? Yeah, I guess."

"In that case, I'll take you as…" Ichigo hunted for the right term and came up with, "my personal servant, if that's okay?"

"Personal?" Shin said, standing straighter, his shoulders going back. "You mean, looking after yerself, sir, and yer stuff?"

"More getting meals and doing laundry," Ichigo replied, "and it'd be for Abarai-san as well, when he gets back."

Shin bowed without a second's hesitation. "It'd be my honour to serve you both, sir."

"Great!" Ichigo said as the call for the evening change of guard sounded across the division grounds. Damn it, time was getting away from him. "Then your first job is to find me something I can eat on the go and bring it over to the bathhouse." Ichigo set off in that direction, calling back as he went, "Oh and if you see Hanatarō, grab the clean uniform off him and tell him we're meeting the captain at the gate in three quarters of an hour. And he'd better not be late."

* * *

They made it to the gate just in time. Only moments later Byakuya swept past them and stepped into shunpo, leaving Ichigo no choice but to shove the remains of his rice ball in his mouth, grab Hanatarō and follow. It was a damn good job he knew where they were headed else he'd have been completely lost.

The top of Sōkyoku Hill was much more crowded than it had been earlier. Ichigo resisted the temptation to reach out and try and sense his family. They should be long gone, heading north through the sewers towards the Black Ridge Gate, which Ganju reckoned was their best bet for getting out of Seireitei. Instead he obediently stayed a step or so behind Byakuya as he paced across the empty ground towards the Sōkyoku itself and the massive scaffold beyond.

At least they'd not be using that tonight. From what Ichigo remembered, beatings were carried out with the prisoner held face down on the ground. Still it was impressive, especially at this time of the evening. The lowering sun glinted off the uprights making them gleam brightly and, gathered around the platform at the base between long dark shadows, was a small group of shinigami.

Ichigo was so caught up trying to see who was there that when Byakuya suddenly slowed down, he almost ran into the back of him. He managed to bite back a rude comment just in time, and settled on a glare that quickly turned into a frown. Byakuya was carrying two zanpakutō. Senbonzakura, through his obi like usual, and Zabimaru in his hand. For Renji, for afterwards. The sight was more reassuring that Ichigo liked to admit.

If Byakuya noticed Ichigo's slip of manners, he didn't comment; he had his eyes fixed on one of the groups up ahead. As they drew closer, he said, "Stay behind me, keep your head down, and do not under any circumstances speak unless directly addressed. Do you understand me, Kurosaki?" The tone of his voice went beyond command. It was urgent, with an edge of what Ichigo would have called desperation from anyone else. What the hell had brought that on?

Not that it mattered. Ichigo knew well enough which orders he could ignore and which weren't up for discussion. As they sped up again, their route taking them towards a spot some distance from the others, he contented himself with stealing glimpses of the gathered captains and lieutenants from beneath lowered lashes.

Most of the faces were familiar; Ichimaru and Hinamori, Hirako with Tōsen beside him. No sign of Hisagi, which was a relief. There was something unsettling about that guy. Ichigo never knew quite what to make of him.

Beyond that mismatched group stood Kira, and beside him a tall cadaverous man with long white hair caught in a tail at the nape of his neck. Since he was wearing a captain's haori and Kira was with him, Ichigo had to guess that this was the infamous Ukitake-taichō. He didn't look altogether sane. His eyes were almost feverish in the way they slid from face to face and his hands were in constant motion, plucking at the red cord attached to the two swords at his waist. He must be another one with twin zanpakutō like Kyōraku-taichō.

When that piercing green gaze reached him, Ichigo ducked his head and slipped closer to Byakuya. If that was Ukitake-taichō, he didn't want to risk rattling him. Not here, in public.

They came to a halt as far over to the right of the scaffold as Ukitake and Kira were to the left. Ichigo shot a quick look over at Ukitake and realised with relief that he and Kira weren't alone anymore. Unohana-taichō had joined them, standing as she always seemed to when she wasn't healing people, or killing them, with her hands clasped in front of her and her eyes closed.

Flanking her were her two lieutenants; long-haired, scarred Zaraki, from the 11th, picking his teeth and curling his lip at anyone who glanced in his direction, and Yamada Seinosuke, the one who'd almost managed to kill Renji and Byakuya back in the challenge arena, and who was staring at Ichigo with a very odd expression on his face.

For a second Ichigo thought the 4th's lieutenant was silently trash-talking him, then he realised the guy wasn't looking at him at all. Instead Yamada was fixated on the spot beside Ichigo, specifically Hanatarō. Wasn't Yamada Hanatarō's family name as well? Ichigo hadn't thought anything of it before since it was pretty common, but maybe they were related somehow.

Feeling suddenly protective, Ichigo reached out and shoved Hanatarō behind him. It was a bit late to start claiming family now. Yamada should have been there when Hanatarō was sent to the 12th.

He glowered at Yamada until the guy flushed and looked away, then turned his attention to a tight knit group standing close to one of the Sokyoku's thick anchoring ropes.

One was another familiar figure, though Ichigo had never seen the guy in the flesh before. Not tall, but powerfully built, his cropped grey hair and badly scarred face ID'd him as Muguruma-taichō, captain of the 9th and the guy Ichigo and Renji were supposed to have taken down when they did their run. And standing behind him and slightly to one side was a small woman with bright green hair. Muguruma's lieutenant, Kuna Her head was down and, as Ichigo watched, she wobbled slightly. She didn't look anything like her stats said, which was lethally fast and a cool calm killer.

And wasn't this a mind-fuck. When he and Renji'd been working on their plans, everything had been about logistics and strategies. Muguruma and Kuna had been hurdles to defeat and sets of statistics. Now, staring across dusty ground at the living breathing people, Ichigo found himself wondering if he would have been able to do the deed when the time came.

_You would have done what was necessary_, Zangetsu murmured in his mind. The sensation of the guard's skin parting under his tanto blade back at the 12th itched at Ichigo's palms.

A bell sounded from the Senzaikyū, closely followed by Ichimaru's drawling lilt, "Head's up kiddies, I spy an Abarai."

Everyone's attention turned towards the rope bridge that lay behind Unohana. Coming across it at a measured pace were a knot of kidō specialists and, sticking up from the middle of them like an oddly shaped radio mast, was Renji.

They'd let him do his hair. Instead of the wild tangled mess it had been earlier it was now back in its neat braid and suitable to be seen in public. Ichigo drank in the sight of him, discounting superficial things like cuts and bruises and searching for the man beneath. It might only have been a few hours since he'd seen Renji last but there was a huge part of him that still couldn't quite believe he was alive. The threats delivered by Kurotsuchi's butterfly loomed large in Ichigo's memory.

Even from this distance Ichigo could see that Renji was ready for this, walking confidently with his head high and a fearless expression on his face. Ichigo felt a surge of pride and tightened his fist at his side. This was his Renji; strong and resilient, never admitting defeat. Even Byakuya lifted his chin a little and Ichigo could have sworn he saw a glimmer of a smile on that thin, normally expressionless, mouth.

"Finally," someone off to the right grunted. "I was getting fed up waiting,"

"Strange though," another added. A woman. "Aren't we still missing a few?"

Ichigo peered round Byakuya just far enough to see the speakers. They were part of Muguruma's group. One was huge guy in a captain's haori, with an afro-style haircut and sideburns to rival Renji's. All he needed was a pair of tacky sunglasses and he'd have looked like a refugee from bad American TV. It was him who'd spoken first. The second speaker, a tall slender woman wearing a fukutaichō's badge, was tucked firmly against the captain's side.

As afro-guy turned to look at the crowd, Ichigo spotted the number 7 on his haori, which confirmed him as Aikawa-taichō. Which meant the woman was Izumi Miyako. She was beautiful, though her expression as she glanced up at Aikawa was cool and calculating.

"Eh, Kurotsuchi's over there giving the new guy a hard time, so the 2nd, 8th and 1st… Damn it, we'll be here forever! Kuchiki!" Aikawa called out, "keep your damned boy-toy under control in future! I've got better things to do than hang around here all evening." The proprietorial squeeze he gave his fukutaichō didn't leave any doubt as to what he'd rather be doing.

Byakuya didn't deign to reply, though even the hint of a smile vanished like it'd never been.

"Put a sock in it, Love. Ya know as well as I do Abarai was set-up, and if you used ya eyes, you'd see the 2nd's already here."

That was Hirako, and just beyond his waving arm stood a tiny figure dressed in a form-fitting bodysuit; Yoruichi's lover, Soifon. Ichigo had seen her when she came with Yoruichi-sama to the Kuchiki estate, but he hadn't known she was the 2nd's fukutaichō. He always assumed Yoruichi didn't have one, but there was the badge on Soifon's arm. Was she newly promoted? If she was, she didn't look happy about it. In fact she looked totally pissed.

And who was that beside her? The _guy_ wearing the 2nd division haori! It wasn't obvious from the back but - collar-length blond hair, broad shoulders… He looked almost like… "Urahara?"

Ichigo blinked, deciding he had to be seeing things, but no, that was definitely Urahara Kisuke, wearing a captain's haori with a number 2 on the back. What the fuck?

"But where's -?" he began before remembering the order to remain silent.

Byakuya's nostrils flared slightly and he murmured, "Yoruichi decided to gift her division to Urahara Kisuke rather than see him challenge for a captaincy." He followed the statement with a delicate sniff that told Ichigo exactly how he felt about what she'd done.

Handed over her clan's hereditary captaincy to a commoner? No wonder Byakuya was in such a bad mood. Not that he'd needed another reason beyond Renji and this whole freaking shitstorm.

Just as Ichigo thought that, Renji was led past them. Ichigo almost missed him because, even at this close distance, he could hardly sense Renji's reiryoku. Normally it burned like a tightly controlled bonfire, red and hot. Now it was a guttering candle, hardly flickering in him at all.

It had to be something to do with the strange collar he was wearing above the prisoner's plain white yukata, the red leather-looking one that attached him to the poles the guards carried and looked more like something Byakuya might fancy playing with in bed than kidō equipment. There was no mistaking it though, just like there was no mistaking the power of the guards. They sizzled with energy that tasted and felt different to other shinigami, like spices with a promise of something sweet and forbidden underneath. It smelt so good, and Ichigo was hungry, so very hungry. All he had to do was reach out and…

A sharp pain on his forearm brought Ichigo back to himself. With a start he realised he'd taken a step towards the guards. Shit! What the hell did he think he was doing? Despite shaking in his boots, Hanatarō had a tight grip on Ichigo's shihakushō sleeve, which meant it must have been his clever fingers that had pinched Ichigo back from the brink of disaster.

"Thanks," Ichigo whispered, genuinely grateful. Fuck knows what would have happened if he'd tried absorbing someone's reiryoku here, in front of half the Gotei's senior officers.

"You must be careful, Kurosaki-san," Hanatarō replied, his voice so quiet that Ichigo had to stoop to hear him. "And when we get back you must eat and sleep properly."

Ichigo couldn't imagine being able to eat after this, the rice he'd just had sat heavy in his queasy stomach, but he got Hanatarō's point. Part of the reason why Uryū's abilities were out of control was because he'd been starved and forced to stay awake to keep control. It was an object lesson in how bad things could get if Ichigo didn't follow the rules.

As if to remind him of those self-same rules, his hands began to itch inside his clean gloves again. Ichigo clasped them behind his back and forced himself to concentrate on what was going on. It was either that or start scratching like a flea ridden mutt in front of everyone.

The guards had got Renji as far as the scaffold. Ichigo peered past Byakuya in confusion when, instead of stopping, they continued round to the rear and then up the steep steps. They were going to use the platform? That didn't make sense. Once Renji was lying down, no one would be able to see, and though Ichigo wouldn't have minded giving the whole damned thing a miss, he'd kind of got the impression Renji was being punished as an example to others. It wasn't much of an example if no one could see it. Maybe they'd all have to go up there with him?

He was still trying to work out how it was going to work when a hell butterfly fluttered its ponderous way between them. It paused close to Unohana-taichō and a moment later Okikiba's voice rang out.

"Attention! Captains and vice-captains of the Gotei 13. The captains of the 1st and 8th divisions have been unavoidably detained. In his absence, the sōtaichō has ordered Abarai Renji's punishment to commence without delay."

As the message ended, a stir of sound and movement spread like a wave through the group of officers, starting with those with the clearest view of the edge of the hill and spreading back towards Ichigo. "Tenken," it said, "Tenken." Repeated again and again like it was supposed to mean something.

"Fuck that," Madarame-taichō said a moment later, his voice carrying the few yards between his group and Ichigo's. "You can stay here if ya want, but I'm moving back if they've got that bastard's hand on the whip."

Ayasegawa's answering smile was full of sharp, perfectly white teeth. His tongue flicked out over red painted lips as he said, "You can go if you wish. I shall stay. I've always found beauty in the Divine One's creativity."

Tenken? Divine one? More to the point, had Madarame mentioned a whip?

A new picture of Renji's punishment, one that fit far more logically with Hisana's worry, presented itself for Ichigo's consideration. Not fifty strokes with a light cane, but fifty lashes of a whip. Given by someone who scared Madarame Ikkaku.

As Ichigo was trying to get to grips with that, two new figures appeared on the platform beside Renji and his guards.

Almost as one, the younger officers took half a step back. Ichigo did the same, because, holy shit, what was that thing? It looked like a rabid wolf, except wolves never came in that size. Nor did they look half human. Was it a yokai?

Drool splattered on the platform from the wolf-demon's muzzled jowls as it snarled and strained at the end of its chain, lunging at the kidō corps guards at well above head-height. They ignored it and continued to remove Renji's restraints. Renji too looked unsurprised, just stripping off his yukata and shooting the thing, and the guy holding it, the odd frown or two.

Because the guy at the other end of the chain wasn't much better than the werewolf thing he was holding. Naked to the waist and almost as tall as a house, he had bright red skin, dark blue hair, and looked more than a bit like a living breathing temple gate guardian. The fire coming out of his mouth just added to the impression. But whatever he was, Ichigo knew who he was. This was the Tenken the others had been whispering about; the human-scale whip he carried tucked into his belt gave it away. Small enough to look like a kid's toy in his hands, when he swung it, it'd be with a giant's strength.

Ichigo had seen a whipping once, when he'd accidentally clicked a link on an email he'd thought was from Keigo. He hadn't been able to close all the pop-up windows fast enough and ended up seeing things he wished he could unsee.

And they were going to do that to Renji?

After they'd drained his reiryoku away to almost nothing so he wouldn't even be able to protect himself?

He had to stop them. This was all wrong. "You can't!" he heard himself saying as he stepped forward.

Renji's head shot up and every eye in the area turned towards Ichigo.

"You'll kill him!" Ichigo continued, still walking forwards. He'd have been halfway to the platform already except that Hanatarō had grabbed his arm, and was causing just enough drag to remind him that he was on dodgy ground again. And that irritating everyone wouldn't help Renji.

"For fuck's sake. God-damned nobles and their pansy-assed vapours," Zaraki sneered loudly. "You gonna shut him up, Kuchiki, or you want me to do it for ya?"

Byakuya ignored him, saying simply, "Control yourself, Kurosaki."

"But…" Ichigo began, glancing back towards him. Byakuya was just standing there, totally expressionless. Ichigo couldn't believe it. He was going to stand there and let this happen? Why? Byakuya might be an dick at times, but he wasn't a coward. "Byakuya, come on. We can't let them-"

"You are forgetting your place." The reprimand snapped out, icy enough that it worked like a bucket of cold water in the face. Ichigo stopped reacting and started thinking.

His place.

His place here was to stand as witness to Renji's punishment. His legally sanctioned punishment.

He turned, looking up at the platform where Renji was rising slowly into the air. He was naked and supported on some kind of frame that seemed to be floating in midair. Kept up by kidō probably. It could have been hung on sky-hooks for all Ichigo knew or cared. The important thing was that Renji wasn't fighting this. He had to have known what this punishment was going be and he'd still called it a victory.

And no matter which way he sliced it, however much his instinct cried out to rescue his lover from what was about to happen, Ichigo didn't have the right to argue that with Renji.

Head down, he paced back to his place behind Byakuya, ignoring the looks and comments tossed after him. Once there, he lifted his eyes to the scaffold, to his lover's naked back. If this was what Renji wanted, then damn it, this is what Ichigo would give him, he would witness every moment.


	17. Police Me: Reprise

**[Warning for pretty graphic description of whipping.]**

* * *

They raised Renji high into the air, the evening sun throwing his figure into sharp relief. The frame held him fast, hands secured slightly above shoulder-height, legs about a foot apart, it even had support at hips and chest. Any other time and Ichigo would have enjoyed the view. But he couldn't. Not now. Not when he knew what was to come.

His belly cramped as Tenken's massive arm rose, elbow cocking like a pitcher about to pitch. The single-tailed whip trailed from his hand like a snake, the giant's every breath making it writhe and twitch. It seemed to hang there forever, poised and waiting. Ichigo held his breath, lungs burning with the strain of it, eyes stinging. Time crept past; a minute, maybe more. Any second now. Surely it had to start any second now.

Finally, he had to let the breath go. It left him with a gasp and, as he inhaled again, the whip flew, and despite his best intentions, Ichigo's eyes flinched shut. He didn't want to see. It wasn't cowardice; he'd face down any hollow anyone fancied throwing at him, but this… this wasn't about bravery.

Except that it was. It was about Renji's bravery.

Despite his expectations, there was no whip-crack, no scream. Leather met skin with a dull smack that was barely audible from where Ichigo was standing. A rustle of sound passed through the crowd. Ichigo forced himself to open his eyes and there, in slow-motion on the big screen hovering above Renji's head, was a replay. This time he made himself watch, biting his lip as Renji didn't even flinch at the first stroke. Only the twitch of a muscle beneath his eye showed he'd been struck at all.

The screen was one of Kurotsuchi's. It had shimmered into existence when they got Renji to the right height and now stretched the width of the scaffold, letting everyone see every detail, front and back. As well as close-ups and panning shots, it included a stroke counter that looked too much like a baseball scorecard for it to be a total coincidence. Thankfully, unlike the version at the challenge arena, it didn't come with audio, though Ichigo suspected that was because the victim's screams would blow out the sound system.

Tenken swung again. This time Ichigo dug his fingernails into his palms and hung on. His whole body lurched forwards as the whip struck, and this time there was no break and no replay. Tenken's arm rose and fell, rose and fell. Slowly and inexorably the number on the screen ticked up and now Renji was starting to react. Sweat beaded on his brows and lip, and he began to pale even as a hectic flush rose on his cheeks. Vivid red marks striped his shoulders, buttocks and thighs, cutting across the stark black of his tattoos. On some, blood broke the surface, spreading like delicate webs down the angles of his back.

"I've got 500 kan says he breaks at twenty," Hirako called out.

"Done!" Madarame replied. "He'll never make it that far, look at him already."

They were betting? On this?

They wouldn't fucking dare! Ichigo spun on the gamblers, preparing to take them apart, but he was too late. Soifon got there before him. "You're a disgrace to that uniform, Hirako," she sneered.

"Relax, no harm done." Hirako flashed her a grin and waved a hand in the direction of the scaffold before going back to making notes in his little book. "Abarai'd stick a kan or two down himself if we asked 'im." He squinted towards Renji. "Not sure where he'd be hiding 'em though."

Revulsion skated across Soifon's face. "Scum, you and all the filth that crawls inside the walls to feed off the rest of us."

Hirako shrugged the insults off. "Say what ya like. Reckon ya in the minority, darling," he laughed, "or soon will be. A third of us captains hail from outside your precious wall now, and half the rest've got parents that did. It ain't about blood anymore, it's about power. Ask ya own captain."

On the other side of Soifon, Urahara flinched, but he didn't take his eyes off the big screen. Ichigo dragged his gaze back too. The counter said fifteen and the stripes on Renji's back now crossed each other. The screen showed close-ups of Renji's tightly closed eyes and clenched fists. Blood ran down his chin, dripping slowly onto his chest where it mixed with sweat and sketched lines around his defined muscles. Every one of them was tensed, veins pumped to the surface and Ichigo wanted to say something, tell him to relax. He needed to relax. If he didn't, the whip could cut something important.

On the nineteenth stroke, Renji cried out. The sound burst from him in an animalistic bellow, like it had escaped through sheer built up pressure. Madarame echoed it with an exultant, 'Lucky, lucky, lucky!" and swaggered over to Hirako to claim his winnings. Ichigo didn't care. He only had eyes for Renji.

Blood flowed in earnest after the twenty third stroke.

After the initial yell Renji had managed to silence himself again, though his chest and chin were crimson where he'd bitten his lips and tongue to achieve it. But after the the skin across his shoulder split, he was obviously fighting a losing battle. Belly deep grunts accompanied every blow, his body jerking with the combined force of them. And they weren't even half way there yet.

Now almost every stroke came away bloodied. As Tenken threw the whip into the thirtieth lash, a crimson arc sprayed from the leather. It flew out over the crowd, some pattering down into the dust, more finding shihakushō, haori or skin.

Madarame swiped at his shoulder where the pristine white of his new haori was now peppered with Renji's blood. "Damn it," he snarled. "Fucking mess, never get it out."

"Mmm," came the happy croon from beside him. Ayasegawa was enraptured. Blood had spattered across his cheek and he pressed his fingers just below it, swaying slightly as he watched, his eyes glazed with pleasure.

Ichigo grimaced in disgust and turned his attention back to the platform. For the moment, the punishment had stopped. Tenken had moved to the base of the upright where his yokai was chained and was wiping the whip with a cloth. The creature stretched out towards him, lying full length on its belly and licking at the ground through its muzzle. It was cleaning up blood drops, Ichigo realised. Renji's blood. That was just gross. Why the hell would the giant let it do that?

A moment later Tenken bent and scrubbed his fingers through the monster's thick ruff. It's short stumpy tail thumped against the ground, just like a dog's. Ichigo turned his face away, not ready to deal with anything else right now. He needed to focus on Renji.

The break didn't seem to have helped him. His head hung as though he lacked the strength to hold it up. And his chest heaved with panting irregular breaths. It reminded Ichigo oddly of the scene just a couple of nights ago, when Byakuya had had Renji restrained by the rope. His breathing had been odd then, but that had been arousal, Ichigo realised now. Because this was what Renji looked like when he was simply in pain, and the two were nothing like each other.

The whip sang, and for the first time, it cracked. Renji screamed, jolting upright as the whip laid open his left buttock. Ichigo felt his gorge rise and swallowed hard. Nineteen more. They had to make it through nineteen more.

Three quick strokes followed on right buttock and across both thighs. Blood flowed freely down Renji's back and legs, obliterating his tattoos and thinned by his sweat until it seemed to run in never-ending streams onto the ground.

At this rate, Renji's major problem was going to be blood loss. Normally it wasn't much of an issue for shinigami. They were pretty damned difficult to kill unless you cut their head off. Or unless you did so much damage that their reiryoku couldn't hold them together long enough to be healed.

And when you started off with less reiryoku because you'd been drained by a kidō collar…?

Fuck!

Ichigo leaned forward until he was almost touching Byakuya's shoulder and whispered urgently, "They're going to kill him. If we don't stop this, Renji's going to die."

Byakuya twitched. "No," he murmured, eyes never leaving the scaffold. "Unohana is watching." His skin was even paler than usual and had a waxy sheen. Perhaps Byakuya wasn't as unaffected by this as Ichigo thought.

He glanced over at Unohana-taichō. She was still standing as she had been, with her eyes closed and her hands clasped, but her reiatsu now hovered around her like a cloud, and several thin tendrils had drifted towards the platform. She was monitoring Renji's condition.

Ichigo felt a huge chunk of worry unravel. Pain and even severe injury could be fixed eventually. Unless Renji lost an eye or a limb, there wasn't much that couldn't be healed by the 4th. Knowing he wasn't going to die really took the pressure off.

But it didn't make it any more pleasant. Tenken was back into his stride. Renji jerked uncontrollably with every blow, his voice beginning to rise into desperate incoherent sobs. It was such a wrong sound, one that Renji should never be forced to make. Once they got through this, he'd put things right, Ichigo promised himself. Promised Renji. He'd even make it up with Byakuya somehow. Renji still loved the ass, no matter how much he tried to hide it, and so Ichigo would find a way to live with him too. So long as he promised to stop being such a dick.

Fuck, at this point, he'd promise Renji the moon and do his best to provide it.

Not that all the promises in the world could help Renji now.

At forty Tenken stopped again, wiping down the whip and this time picking up a bucket that stood next to the other upright. He took a step or two away and then tossed the contents at Renji. It was water. Salt water, going by the way Renji threw back his head and screamed, his body shaking and shuddering. His braid, which had been secured somehow in front of him, swung loose, slapping against his back and immediately getting caught in lacerated skin.

Tenken frowned, stepped forward and lifted it clear, tucking it back into place. It wouldn't stay. Several times he poked it into place and each time it escaped before he could retake his stance. Finally, and with a growl that Ichigo felt through his feet, he took hold of the braid in one hand and pulled a long knife from his belt with the other.

"No!" Byakuya's shout and the sudden violent flare of his reiatsu took everyone by surprise. Even Unohana flickered her eyes open briefly. Someone over to the left sniggered.

Tenken paused, huge head turned towards the crowd, then he nodded and slowly slipped the knife back into its sheath. Message understood. He could whip Renji until skin hung in tatters but the hair was sacrosanct. Ichigo took it all back. He was going to kick Byakuya's ass all the way out to 80th district and back again!

Ten strokes left to go. As Tenken fiddled with Renji's braid, Ichigo tried to plan ahead. They'd have to get Renji to the 4th straight away; division medics were not going be enough for this. And with so much damage to his skin, it was going to take a while to heal. At least he had Shin now to help, as well as Hanatarō.

He reached out for the little negator and found nothing but thin air. When he turned, he found the kid in a huddled heap on the ground, shaking. Damn it! Not again. Had it been Byakuya, or was that just the frosting on this crazy twisted cake? The sōtaichō was a bastard for forcing Hanatarō to go through this at all.

Though actually, since the sōtaichō wasn't here…

Ichigo hunkered down and put a hand on Hanatarō's back. "Do you want to leave?" he asked. "There's about two minutes before it starts up again. I can get you to the other end of the hill at least."

The hood wobbled from side to side and a breathy voice said, "I'll be f-fine, K-Kurosaki-san. I just n-need to…"

Stay down there and try not to throw up probably. Ichigo patted him and said, "You're doing great. It's almost over."

It was as well. Ichigo was starting to feel like he could see the light at the end of the tunnel and for the first time it wasn't some other pile of shit heading towards them. He almost felt good.

With the next breath, Renji's piteous cry of, "Stop! Please, just- just fucking make it stop!" stole it all away.

Ichigo shot to his feet, spinning to look at the scaffold. Tenken had started again, but he seemed to be having problems finding somewhere to land the whip. There was hardly an undamaged patch of skin across Renji's shoulders and upper back, and he was one raw bleeding wound from buttocks to knees.

The whip licked out, the crack louder than ever, and wrapped itself around Renji's shoulder.

Whether Renji flinched at the wrong moment or perhaps Tenken made a mistake, who knew, but the tip curled up and round, slicing a gash across Renji's cheek from his ear up and across his left eye.

That was when it all went to hell. Blood welled in Renji's eye blinding him and, on the big screen, Ichigo saw him start to panic. He began thrashing in the restraints, yanking on his wrists, digging in his heels and twisting his spine. Feeble bursts of reiatsu skittered up and down his body, and he started to cry out, begging them not to take his eyes, just like he had after Yamada and the arena.

It was too much. Ichigo couldn't take anymore. Fuck it, fuck them. Just fuck everything.

A single step of shunpo took him to the scaffold. He didn't attack Tenken. There was no point. If he was fighting, he couldn't help Renji. Instead he conjured a decent sized kidō platform and used it to put himself between the whip and Renji's poor scourged flesh. This close he could smell it. The stink of a butcher's shop on a hot day. Blood and sweat, leather and sawdust.

Tenken stared at him for the longest moment, glowing golden eyes impossible to decipher, and then he said, in a voice that sounded like rocks sliding over each other, "Move. The punishment is not complete."

"For now, I think it is," Byakuya said from the other side of Renji.

He'd come. He'd actually come. Ichigo shot him a grateful look. Maybe he'd only kick him out to the 50th district.

The presence of Ichigo's and Byakuya's reiatsu seemed to calm Renji. He stopped fighting and went slack in his bonds. They were kidō cuffs and so his wrists were fine despite his attempts to rip his own hands off. It was difficult to tell about his feet because of the amount of blood.

As Ichigo was checking him out, a bone-chilling snarl came from somewhere behind him. The wolf-demon. Slowly, and thinking hard about not making any sudden moves, Ichigo turned to face it. For a big guy, Tenken could move apparently. He'd managed to get the yokai unchained and unmuzzled without either Ichigo, or apparently Byakuya, noticing, and the thing had now leapt up onto the platform.

"Nice doggie?" Ichigo murmured, one hand drifting towards his zanpakutō at glacial speed, while the other made vague patting motions in the air in front of him.

From the corner of his eye he saw Byakuya draw Senbonzakura, then Byakuya said, "I presume this is the human method of dealing with such creatures," in that dead dry way he had when making fun of people.

Without taking his eyes off the yokai, Ichigo scowled and said, "If you've got any other ideas-"

"Chire!"

The air filled with lethal pink blades just as the wolf-demon leapt. The two collided but, rather than slicing the demon to ribbons, Senbonzakura was shouldered aside with no more difficulty than a normal wolf would tackle a snow drift.

"Shit!" Ichigo yelped, drawing Zangestu and getting it up just in time to fend off snapping jaws with teeth as long as his forearm; only to find a flaming sword the size of a small car swinging down on him from above.

"Danku!"

The kidō barrier slammed into place. The sword hit it, and though the bakudō cracked, it held.

"Nice!" Ichigo called, kind of embarrassed that Byakuya had had to rescue him yet again.

"Tears of gratitude may be shed later, Kurosaki. For now, concentrate on the field of battle." The cool calm reply came as sakura season arrived six months early to the top of the Sōkyoku Hill. Trailing sheets of pink wound through the air towards the giant's body, met and matched by spitting gouts of fire.

Since the irritating bastard was dealing with Tenken, Ichigo changed his stance and concentrated on pushing the wolf-demon back a few steps, away from Renji. He seemed to have passed out, which was probably a good thing. There was nothing going on he'd want to be awake for, that was for sure.

Bloody demon drool ran down Zangetsu's hilt as the yokai snapped and bit at the blade. Patches of crimson bloomed in several places through its thick brown and white fur, presumably from its close encounter with Senbonzakura, but the damage didn't seem to be slowing it down any. Nor was Ichigo going to win in a battle of brute strength. The thing outweighed him five times over and towered above him even on all fours.

Tactics it was then. Giving as much ground as he took, Ichigo managed to turn the yokai so its back was to the edge of the platform. Then, "Getsuga tenshō!"

The powerful reiatsu blast hit the wolf-demon right in the face, throwing it backwards with a yelp. Its rear legs slid off the platform, claws scrabbling for purchase. They found nothing but air, but still it didn't fall. Unlike a real wolf, the yokai's front legs and shoulders were constructed more like arms. It leaned its weight over its elbows and began to heave, pulling itself back up onto the platform by pure brute strength. As it came, it lifted its head and snarled, yellow eyes glowing with an intelligence that was almost human, the killing intent suffocating.

Another, hurried, getsuga tenshō sent the thing crashing over the edge and into the spreading pool of blood below. Ichigo was about to follow to finish it off when something fluttered past his nose and Okikiba's voice broke through the chaos:

"Attention! Captains and vice-captains of the Gotei 13! As of this announcement, the punishment of Abarai Renji is suspended. On the order of Central 46, no further actions must be taken. Any officer found disregarding this order will be found in contempt of court and punished accordingly!"

Ichigo didn't hear much past, 'punishment suspended.' With a groan of relief, he sank to one knee, letting Zangetsu support his weight as Tenken, looking a bit tatty round the edges, came and rescued his demon-wolf. Around them, the rest of the captains stood down, several sheathing their blades and looking relieved that they didn't have to get involved. The buzz of conversation started up and Ichigo felt his fear unwind.

It was over. Now he could relax. Now they'd won.

Except it wasn't over. Not quite yet.

Ichigo was already turning when he heard Byakuya's worried, "Renji!" For a second he thought Renji'd had come round and started panicking again, then he realised what he was seeing. That wasn't panic, that was a seizure. Fuck! Renji's condition must have deteriorated and with all the reiatsu flying around during the fight, no one had noticed.

Ichigo was back beside them in a heartbeat, reaching to help Byakuya who was doing his best to support Renji as his body shook and twitched, slamming against the frame. Byakuya's grip kept slipping on sweat and blood-slicked skin and every uncontrolled movement was making Renji's injuries worse. It was already terrible. It was kind of like what Uryū had done to Rikichi, except Renji's skin wasn't eaten away, it was macerated. Each layer pulverised like well-tenderised steak and flayed away from the flesh beneath.

"We need to get these cuffs off," Ichigo said and, since he hadn't a clue how go about doing that, he did the only thing he could think of and pressed himself bodily to Renji's injured back, grabbing the frame, and bracing himself and Renji at the same time. It would have hurt like fuck if Renji was conscious, but since he was already out of it, it seemed like the best way of restraining him.

The scent of raw meat filled Ichigo's nose and warm wetness leeched through the front of his shihakushō. His feet slipped in blood and sweat and worse. Ichigo wanted to puke. Instead, he grit his teeth and hung on as Renji continued to seize in his arms.

"Done," Byakuya said a moment later. Renji went slack in Ichigo's grasp and Ichigo took a step back, sandal sliding on the slick surface. Byakuya was there to catch them both and between them, they managed to get Renji down to ground level without damaging him any further.

Yamada pounced immediately, thin hands glowing green as they hovered just above Renji's injuries. It was all Ichigo could do to let himself be elbowed out of the way by the man who'd torn Renji apart himself only a couple of months ago, but Unohana-taichō hovering in the background helped. Despite her having been the cause of the fight, Ichigo couldn't fault her treatment of Yuzu since, and anyone who could make his little sister happy couldn't be all bad.

Byakuya, typically for him, refused to take the hint and stayed put. Hunkered down by Renji's head with Zabimaru on the ground beside him, he alternated between stroking shaking fingers through Renji's hair and shooting daggers of barely restrained reiatsu at Yamada, who bristled right back at him. Trapped between them, Renji twitched and moaned fitfully until Unohana finally stepped in with a terrifyingly polite, "Kuchiki-taichō, my lieutenant needs to work. Kindly remove yourself before I am required to take measures."

The intimidation worked. With a final pet of Renji's hair, Byakuya slid Zabimaru beneath his lax hand, rose to his feet and stalked away without comment or backward glance. Ichigo knew him well enough to know it was all an act. He was probably tying himself up in knots about having shown how much he cared for Renji in public. Ichigo should follow, poke the guy until he was annoyed back to normality. But, trust in Unohana aside, Ichigo didn't want to leave Renji alone, even if he did have Zabimaru back now.

Ichigo's gaze returned reluctantly to the working medics. Unohana was on her knees as well now, leaning over Renji with both hands glowing green. Ichigo frowned. Had something else gone wrong? She hadn't seemed worried a couple of minutes ago.

He joined them nervously, watching from a safe distance. After a moment Unohana-taichō glanced up at him, her expression understanding. "This is always a danger," she said. "The sekkiseki drains away so much reiryoku that the patient has none to spare to aid in their own recovery. We must restore that somewhat first before we can attempt a proper healing."

"Can I do anything, you know, to help?" Ichigo asked. It was probably dumb, but he had to offer.

Unohana shook her head. "Your reiatsu is too unstable. You would do more damage than you'd heal."

Yeah, that's what he thought.

"Nothing stopping you from donating," Yamada put in with a smirk. He nodded towards his zanpakutō lying beside him on the ground. "She's always looking for a tasty treat."

Ichigo shuddered and forced himself not to step back. He'd forgotten about that aspect of Yamada's abilities. Though if it was for Renji. "If you need it, I will."

Unohana shot a quick questioning look at Yamada who shrugged, "There were a few emergencies today and I didn't have a chance to top up before we left."

"In that case," she turned back to Ichigo, smiling beatifically as her hands kept flooding Renji's body with her own reiatsu, "If you wouldn't mind, Kurosaki-kun?"

* * *

Being tapped by Yamada's zanpakutō felt just as bad as its name suggested. It was like being stung by a mosquito, a giant reiryoku sucking mosquito. Ichigo fought the urge to throw up or pass out and braced his hands behind him, grateful that Yamada had told him to sit down before they started.

"So, erm… You do this a lot?" Ichigo asked as he watched the blade slowly leeching energy out of him via the pointy bit stuck in his thigh. It wasn't deep, just below the surface, but it sure was odd.

Yamada glanced up at him before returning to focus on his zanpakutō, a slight frown pinching at his brows. "Some," he said. "It's useful in emergencies but there's risks attached."

There were? "There are? Like what?"

"Like Yabuka not listening to me and taking too much, or taking it too fast," Yamada replied with a single shoulder shrug. A moment later, he sat up and slowly withdrew the blade, pressing on the injury with a single glowing hand as the tip came free. "Done," he said. "You should eat something and-"

"Keep your fluids up, yeah, I got it. Blood donation, Soul Society style." Ichigo poked at his totally healed leg, still feeling woozy. Maybe that hadn't been such a good idea. He'd already been running low. Never mind, he'd make sure to get a decent meal when they got back.

"You can start the healing now, Seinosuke," Unohana said.

"Yes, taichō," came the reply.

Ichigo flopped back onto the ground and stared at the sky. The sun had set. He hadn't noticed with everything else going on, but now the plateau was lit by the same kidō lights that everyone used for public gatherings. It was also getting cold, enough to make Ichigo think nostalgically of heaps of quilts and hot baths.

Once Renji was stable, they'd take him home. Back to the captain's quarters.

Ichigo would be lying to himself if he didn't admit the attraction. Byakuya had servants, and guards and a comfortable bed. Not to mention a private bathroom. It'd be a much more comfortable place for Renji to wake up than the cramped lieutenant's quarters at the 6th. If Byakuya let them come home, that was.

Straining his neck, Ichigo peered over at Byakuya who was standing on the edge of the plateau staring out over Seireitei. Ichigo could imagine it. Lights coming on one after another, like fireflies on a summer night until each of the division grounds were picked out in white and red and green. It was a sight that never stopped being beautiful even when the place itself was hell.

What was he thinking about, Ichigo wondered looking at Byakuya's unmoving back. Did he regret the past few days? He should. He'd been a total dick to Renji the other night, even if it had been Renji taking Ichigo's 'punishment' for him.

Ichigo snorted quietly and relaxed. Asshole could make it up to them with breakfast in bed while Renji healed. That sounded fair.

"Kurosaki-kun?"

"Ma'am?" Ichigo sat up and crawled over to Unohana, a grin growing on his face when he realised why she'd called him. Renji had his good eye open, though the other was still bruised and swollen shut. "Hey, you," Ichigo said, "You back with us?"

"Woz happen'n," Renji muttered by way of reply. His hand tightened around Zabimaru, but he looked about as focused as Ichigo felt. They made a good pair.

Like Unohana and Yamada. Ichigo glanced at them kneeling over Renji as he lay face down in the dust, at two sets of skilled hands still held over Renji's body. They were working in tandem as far as he could make out; Unohana flooding Renji with her captain-level reiryoku while Yamada used his own and Renji's to heal. Both had expressions of fierce concentration on their faces, so Ichigo guessed that what they were doing wasn't easy.

The ground around them, all around Renji really, was stained dark with blood, but the injuries themselves were looking a hell of a lot better. There was actual skin covering some of them now, though it was pink and very fragile looking. And it made the tattoos look really weird. The ones over Renji's ass were mostly gone, just splotches of black here and there. More were left on his back and shoulders but they'd twisted and disintegrated like a picture in a kaleidoscope. It was going to take some getting used to, but it was a hell of a lot better than no skin at all.

His reiryoku looked healthier too. Not that he had enough to be doing anything useful anytime soon, but at least it wasn't on the edge of fading out altogether.

"Same old, same old," Ichigo told him, settling down to lean on one elbow. "We had to rescue you, 'cause you almost died. And now Unohana-taichō 's healing you. But, fun new twist, Yamada-fukutaichō's helping this time."

"He's wha-" Renji began, starting to lever himself up to look.

He didn't get far before Unohana-taichō snapped, "Abarai-kun!"

Renji, wisely, collapsed again with a whimper, much to Ichigo's amusement.

Unohana gave him a disapproving look. "Please do not encourage him, Kurosaki-kun. He's quite the bad patient without people egging him on."

"Hey," Renji protested, but the exhaustion in his voice told its own tale. If Ichigo thought his last twenty-four hours had been rough, they were nothing on Renji's.

He should tell Byakuya that Renji was awake. He'd want to know. Reaching out, Ichigo almost patted Renji on the shoulder, only managing to stop at the last moment, and had to content himself with poking Renji in the head instead. Renji's annoyed grunt was the perfect reply.

* * *

Ichigo waited until he was right on top of Byakuya before announcing, "He's awake," so he got to see the moment of shocked pleasure before it got buried back under proper behaviour.

"That is… good," Byakuya said after a moment, going back to staring out over Seireitei.

"Yep," Ichigo replied, standing beside him. The view was just as pretty as he'd thought it would be. Made more so from knowing Renji would around to share it again soon. "You gonna come and talk to him?"

"You think he-?" Byakuya cut himself off with a brisk shake of the head. "Of course. I'm still officially his captain. He's my responsibility."

And your lover, you moron, Ichigo thought, but hey, whatever got the guy through. Byakuya was never one to share his feelings, with anyone if he could help it.

The sudden flare of unmistakable reiatsu prevented a reunion, happy or otherwise. At the same time that Ichigo and Byakuya reached Renji, the sōtaichō and the Judge from Central 46 arrived, and with them a huge guy with glasses and a handlebar moustache. They were escorted by a group of guards, all wearing armbands identifying them as Central, who immediately moved to surround Renji and everyone close to him.

Ichigo took one look at their levelled polearms and reached for Zangetsu, only for Byakuya to grab his sleeve before he could draw. He scowled, and received a raised brow in reply which was enough to make him think a second and stand down. Yeah, Byakuya was right, it probably wasn't clever to go on a rampage _before_ they knew what was going on.

"What is the meaning of this?" the Judge demanded, gesturing at Renji as he shuffled forwards, tall black hat wobbling. "Did you not receive the butterfly?"

"Not in time to prevent the majority of the punishment from being carried out," Byakuya replied, his disdain for the Judge obvious in his tone. "Had it arrived earlier-" he continued, only for the Judge to speak over him,

"That's not what I was referring to." He waved his hand again. It was almost lost in a fall of gold and green silk. "This… healing," he said like it was something dirty. "Were the orders not explicit? No further actions were to be carried out on the prisoner!"

"That directive was unclear from the context of the original message," Byakuya argued. "It is understandable that Renji's… that Abarai's life was put before any attempt to seek clarification."

The Judge snorted. "That's as may be. It doesn't excuse what she's doing now." He pointed at Unohana who seemed to be shoving as much healing reiatsu into Renji as was physically possible. "Stop that, this instant!"

It seemed laughable, this scrawny little guy in his silly hat and brightly coloured kimono giving orders to the strongest swordsman of the Gotei 13. As Ichigo watched, he could almost see the same thought pass across Unohana's face. She was a healer, above all else, and to be denied access to her patient was fighting talk for her.

"Yachiru," the sōtaichō said warningly.

It was enough apparently. With a nodded bow, Unohana rose to her feet and gestured Yamada to do the same. They both withdrew, Yamada bowing deeply as he went, though no further than just beyond the guards. Ichigo guessed they'd hang around, just in case they got to come back.

The Judge sniffed and nodded with smug approval. He gestured the guards to Renji. "Prepare him," he said and then turned to rest of them. "Come."

Prepare him? Now Ichigo was really starting to worry. He shot a look at Byakuya and wasn't exactly reassured to see the same concern reflected back at him. As they followed the Judge over towards the Sōkyoku, Ichigo tugged on Byakuya's haori and whispered, "What the fuck's going on?"

"I do not know," Byakuya replied hesitantly, "though I would hazard that it is something to do with them." He nodded to a little gaggle of people standing on the far side of the scaffold. Ichigo immediately recognised Kyōraku-taichō, Yadōmaru Lisa and Yoruichi. The shinigami beyond them looked familiar but it wasn't until he turned to smile at them that Ichigo realised who it was.

"Aizen," he hissed, immediately looking around for back-up. "Where's Hanatarō?"

He didn't have time to find him. The sōtaichō drove his staff into the ground with a resounding thud that made the ground shake and called out, "Your attention!"

"We're going again?" Ichigo heard Madarame grouse as captains and vice-captains began arriving and forming up in a loose semi-circle around the sōtaichō.

"Looks that way," Aikawa replied, sliding back into his haori, which he'd apparently already taken off. "I thought we were done for the night. So, what's up now?" He turned to his lieutenant and said something. She shrugged in reply, and he immediately called out, "Someone, anyone, got a clue?"

"Maybe Abarai got caught with more than his bankai shoved up the 12th," Zaraki offered.

"You are a vile excuse for a soul," Kurotsuchi replied as he stalked past.

There were a few faces missing by the time everyone settled, mostly lieutenants presumably sent back to deal with division business. Of the captains only Kyōraku was absent and, looking round a semi-circle dominated by white haori, Ichigo felt very much the odd man out as a third seat. But there was no way in hell he was going to miss this.

Once everyone had settled, the Judge stepped to the fore, tucked his hands into his sleeves and cleared his throat in a pompous kind of a way. "Central 46 has issued word," he began, "on the matter of the accusation against the prisoner, Abarai Renji, for the offence of attempted murder."

"Murder?" someone said. It could have been Hirako. It was definitely him who said, "When did Abarai ever have time ta try an' kill anyone?"

As Hirako spoke, Ichigo craned his neck to check on Renji, but all he could see was glimpses of him through the guards' legs. Was that someone kneeling down next to him? Damn it, he couldn't see.

Who was Renji supposed to have tried to kill anyway? If it was Kurotsuchi then the bastard had it coming and Ichigo would happily stand up and tell any number of judges that.

"Due to the serious nature of this allegation, an immediate and thorough investigation was carried out," the Judge continued, dashing Ichigo's hope of having a chance to testify, "culminating in the case being put before myself and my esteemed colleagues at Central 46 this very afternoon." He paused, for effect perhaps.

The only effect it had on Ichigo was to make him want to cut the guy in half because seriously? A trial in private? How the hell was Renji supposed to answer charges if he was tied to a frame and getting whipped while the hearing was going on? Hadn't these idiots ever heard of justice?

No, they hadn't. And he knew they hadn't. These were the people who held arena matches for kid's lives while they threw others out on the street to get picked like trash and turned into lab rats. Course they held trials in private. What was he thinking.

The whole stupid shitty mess of it made Ichigo's fingers ache to reach for Zangetsu, so he shoved his thumb into his obi. And grimaced. Like the rest of the front of his shihakushō, if was stiff with Renji's blood.

Finally the Judge got to the point. "After due consideration, a verdict was reached and the prisoner, Abarai Renji, found guilty of the attempted murder of his captain, Kuchiki Byakuya, during the Challenges for the Shiba heirs."

"What!" Ichigo yelled. "This is bullshit!"

Others called out, as shocked as he was.

"Kuchiki? No way."

"Not Byakuya."

And some who didn't seem surprised at all.

"Lieutenant on captain violence, sounds right ta me."

"Guess he finally got fed-up being a fuck-toy."

"Nice one, Abarai!"

Ichigo ignored them as he advanced on the cringing Judge. They didn't matter. This time, nothing was going to stop him sorting things out. He was going to take this farce of a trial and shove it right up the Judge's-

"Silence!" The sōtaichō's voice rang out across the plateau along with a wave of brimstone-tainted reiatsu strong enough to stop Ichigo in his tracks. "The verdict has been reached, the decision made. It is not permitted to question Central 46!"

As he spoke, the sōtaichō put himself between Ichigo and the Judge, who, now he had protection, puffed up like a cock pigeon and called out imperiously, ""Bring the prisoner for sentencing!"

Again voices rose, this time in encouragement for Renji, who was being hauled painfully to his feet. Ichigo went up on his toes to see him past the others, only then realising that Byakuya hadn't moved, or spoken, since the Judge's first announcement.

Right now, he seemed to be in shock. He wasn't even looking at the Judge, instead he was looking over at Renji with an expression of complete disbelief on his face. Wasn't he going to say something? Did he even care?

"You don't believe them, do you?" Ichigo demanded, striding back over to him. The fact that Byakuya could doubt Renji even for a second made Ichigo want to punch him. Instead he just shoved him in the shoulder and said, "He'd never do that. He loves you." Though why was beyond Ichigo right at this moment. The asshole didn't deserve him.

"Yes… he does," Byakuya replied a little hesitantly. For the longest time he seemed frozen, staring as Renji was half-dragged half-carried towards them. And then his chin lifted. His eyes hardened with new determination, and he turned back to the Judge, saying it again, this time with absolute certainty, "Yes. Yes, he does."

Thank fuck for that. Maybe between the two of them they could do something to stop this shitstorm before it all went to hell. "So, what now?" Ichigo asked, leaning close to Byakuya so his voice wouldn't carry. There was no point in letting people know something was going to be going down.

"In such cases, little distinction is made under law between attempted murder and murder itself," Byakuya replied, his voice the kind of quiet monotone it got when he was repeating factual information. "For a commoner to lay violent hands upon a person of the highest noble blood is considered an act of treason, since the True First families are the representatives of the Soul King in this dimension."

"Treason?" Well, shit, that couldn't be good. "What's the penalty?" It was going to be bad, Ichigo knew it. Pulse slamming in his throat, he watched the guards drag Renji through a gap in the crowd. One of them must have used something on him because his eyes were open, but he didn't seem to be tracking. The only thing solid about him was his grip on Zabimaru.

Byakuya didn't get a chance to answer Ichigo's question. The Judge got there first. Voice lifting again, he declared, "By law the penalty for treason is public execution by the Sōkyoku, sentence to be carried out within twenty four hours of the verdict being past."

"Didn't fucking do it!" Renji croaked, the sound almost lost in a wave of disbelieving mutters. Every eye went to the massive blade looming above them all, only to be dragged back to Renji as a pained cry rang out and the Judge snapped, "Silence. The prisoner has no right to speak!"

They'd hit him? For speaking?

Now on his knees in front of the Judge, Renji had his head down and was shaking it, muttering, "Didn't do it, I didn't." From the trembling in his arms, it was only sheer bloody-mindedness that was keeping his face out of the dirt. The sudden movement had split the new skin over his ass and shoulders and crimson trails crept down his back and thighs again. Just like it had during the whipping.

He'd been through hell on that scaffold, and now they were going to kill him.

Ichigo tried to get his head round it, and kept failing. It made no sense. Sure he knew that law and justice in Seireitei were dodgy, even at best, but this just seemed so far-fetched. They weren't even being told how this attempted murder was supposed to have happened. And everyone was just going to let this be carried out?

He had to do something.

Feeling Zangetsu stir within him, Ichigo reached into his inner world. _Old man?_

_Do you wish to fight, Ichigo_? Zangetsu's deep voice rolled through Ichigo bringing with it a much needed sense of calm. _Many strong enemies stand between you and your goal._

_I can't just let this happen_. He couldn't. It went against his every instinct.

_The cost will be very high._ Zangetsu seemed to shift, to change somehow, and Ichigo felt his hunger growing. They were going to use Quincy abilities?

Ichigo swallowed, forcing the image of Rikichi's disintegrating skin from his mind. He didn't want to think of that happening to anyone else, so he'd just have to make sure it didn't. There was plenty of other sources of reishi around and what other choice did he have? This wasn't like his father or Yuzu. Dead was dead. You couldn't rescue someone from that.

Steeling himself for what was to come, he said, _I'll pay it._

He'd get Renji out of Seireitei somehow, get him safe somehow, even if he had to die trying. It was only fair. Renji had almost died to let him escape.

The shifting sensation increased. Beneath his gloves, Ichigo's hands started to crawl. The urge to scratch was so intense, so consuming, that he almost missed the Judge's next words.

"However, mercy may be shown if the circumstances warrant it, and this has been deemed such an occasion."

_Wait!_ Ichigo thought urgently. He would fight right now, if he had to. But if he didn't, then taking on all thirteen captains of the Gotei at once was probably stupid.

His insides steadied, the odd feeling staying at a same level instead of the rising boil it had been rapidly becoming,

"Several high ranking nobles petitioned for clemency. Not for the prisoner, who deserves no mercy at all, but for the victim." His gaze came to rest briefly on Byakuya before turning to Renji. "Abarai Renji, for the crime of the attempted murder of a True First noble, you are sentenced to have your powers sealed and to be confined for three thousand years in Shugo, the third level of the underground prison."

"No!" Renji howled, but all Ichigo could do was breath a silent, "Thank fuck," as he released the tension and felt his insides slide back to normal. They had time. Way too much time if you were Renji, but for Ichigo it was a bonus. Now he just had two people to rescue from prison instead of one. Except…

"That is not acceptable," Byakuya's voice cut through the night air and Ichigo's relief.

Now he chose to get in on the act? "What?" Ichigo stared at him. "Why?"

Apparently that didn't merit an answer. "I refuse the clemency offered and demand that full sentence be carried out immediately."

"You want them to kill him?" Okay, this officially just became weird. Someone had to be messing with Byakuya's head. "Where the fuck is Aizen?" Ichigo muttered, casting around for the 1st's lieutenant and his mind-bending zanpakutō.

"It's not him, Kurosaki-san," Hanatarō said weakly from just behind him. "I would know if he released his zanpakutō."

Ichigo turned on the little negator and grabbed his shoulder. "It has to be," he hissed as the sōtaichō started backing up the Judges' decision. Ichigo had never expected to take Central's side against Byakuya but right now that's where he was. Three thousand years was a stupid amount of time, true, but they could track down more evidence, gather support. The other captains didn't look happy, Ichigo could work with that. There was things that could be done to get Renji out more quickly, but not if he was dead!

"It has to be Aizen." Otherwise Byakuya wanted Renji executed, and that made no sense either. "Fuck!" Releasing his hold on Hanatarō's shihakushō Ichigo spun away from him, cursing with frustration.

For a second the world seemed to tilt on its axis. Byakuya went silent, hand gripping Senbonzakura, the sword partially drawn. As pale as midnight snow, he seemed to sway on the spot. If it'd been anyone else, Ichigo would have thought he was about to pass out, but this was Kuchiki Byakuya. Hell would freeze over before he showed weakness like that in public.

And then everything righted itself again. Byakuya breathed, blinked and released his hold on his zanpakutō. "It is as you say," he murmured, voice barely audible as he turned away. "The decision has been made. There is nothing more to be done."

Thank fuck for that! Ichigo wasn't going to have to beat him to a pulp in front of everyone on top of Sōkyoku Hill. That would have been too much.

"Tsukabishi-san," the Judge said, gesturing to the big guy with the moustache and glasses who'd arrived with them.

As he stepped forward, Renji finally stirred. He shook his head. "No," he said, and then again, more strongly, trying to rise. "No, not this, please."

His words fell on deaf ears. Reiatsu that tasted of darkness and infinity swirled around Tsukabishi, sending his dark blue and gold robe flapping around his legs. With his free hand, he formed a sign, one Ichigo recognised as being high level kidō, and then he began to chant, his deep rich voice rolling out over the plateau.

"Great wheel, shifting stars. That which brings forth light."

As he spoke, his reiatsu shot out and scooped Renji up, throwing him into the air and pinning him there. Renji screamed and for a second Ichigo thought his tattoos were coming back. But that wasn't tattoos. The black lines that erupted all over his body grew and stretched, curling around him like ropes.

"Strip all flesh. Consume thyself. Blind and tongueless speak."

"No! Not Zabi!" Renji's voice came, cracked and desperate, ending on a wail as, in his hand, Zabimaru began to disintegrate, flaking away into nothingness until Renji's hand clasped on nothing but empty air.

"Morning song! Noon's cry! Everlasting night, hold fast and bind. Thousand by thousand voices be thee done!"

On the final word, Tsukabishi drove his staff into the ground. The rings jangled, creating a wave of sound that seemed to stretch out to every corner of Seireitei before echoing back. And with each note, the lines on Renji's body seemed to spring to life. One at a time, they glowed and then sank into his skin, and Ichigo felt him fading.

No, not Renji himself. It wasn't like before, he wasn't dying. But his reiatsu was disappearing, and so was his reiryoku. Like it was being locked away, which Ichigo guessed was exactly what it was. This was what happened when a shinigami had their powers sealed. It was beyond disturbing. Like watching someone being rubbed out. But it had to be better than dying, didn't it?

Didn't it?

Renji might be upset now, but when they proved him innocent, when they got him out, when they reversed the seal and he had Zabimaru back…

And if the seal wasn't reversible?

"Tell me they can undo that," Ichigo whispered urgently. But even if the answer was no, he would still have chosen this for Renji over death. Surely it had to be better to live powerless than it was to die.

"It can be undone by a sufficiently skilled practitioner," Byakuya replied. He sounded empty. Hollowed out. He must have known that this would destroy Zabimaru. But only his physical form, right?

_Right?_Ichigo shot the question into his inner world.

There was a pause that almost went on for too long and then Zangetsu replied, _The zanpakutō may be called back into being once the sealing is reversed, yes._

Thank fuck for that. Renji would never have forgiven him if Ichigo had let Zabimaru be destroyed completely.

Sealing complete, Tsukabishi lowered Renji back to the ground. When Ichigo tried to sense him, he felt nothing, like he did when he tried to touch Hanatarō. There was nothing but an empty space. Everything that made him shinigami, everything made him a soul, was sealed away behind a kidō that Ichigo instinctively knew he wouldn't be able to absorb. It was like a deadlocked door. The catches that kept it secure were inside the kidō. If you didn't have the key, you couldn't get in and unlock it.

Without giving anyone a chance to catch their breath, the guards came forwards again and hauled Renji to his feet. Ironically he actually looked a bit stronger, though he wove from side to side as he stood.

This time it was the sōtaichō who stepped forwards. "Do you have any last words before you begin your sentence?" he asked, and though the tone was stern, Ichigo thought he caught an exhausted edge to it.

Renji was silent for a moment, then shook his head. "Already said m' goodbyes," he said hoarsely. "'M ready ta go."

He didn't look back once as he was led away.

Ichigo watched him go, head spinning from how damn fast the situation had gone to hell. The past few days had given him rollercoaster brain; he wasn't quite sure which way was up any more. And he wasn't the only one. For a second, Ichigo thought Byakuya was going to try and follow Renji. He half reached out and got as far as taking a step forwards before regaining control. Then he just stood there, looking lost.

As Renji and his escort recrossed the rope bridge back to the prison, the Judge, sōtaichō and Tsukabishi all left and, with them gone, the other captains began to chat amongst themselves. Ichigo listened with half an ear while he kept an eye on Byakuya. He'd started staring over at Kyōraku and Yoruichi, and had the strangest expression on his face. It'd be tempting to call it indecisive if Ichigo had ever seen Byakuya not able to make his mind up about anything.

Ichigo watched them all, waiting for someone to crack, and nearly leapt out of his skin when a soft, breathy voice right behind him said, "You must be Isshin's boy."

He turned and fell upwards into ocean depths. For the strangest moment he was flying through storm-lit clouds and sinking into a vast unfathomable pool of silence. The scent of ozone drowned out the smell of Renji's blood and the sound of waves replaced his cries. It was amazing. And as scary as fuck.

And then reality snapped back into place and Ichigo was back exactly where he had been, standing on Sōkyoku Hill with Renji's blood drying on his shihakushō and a kidō light right in his eyes. He squinted and raised a hand block the glare.

Ukitake's thin face brightened, a soft smile curving his lips. "You're so much like your father," he continued. "Though I must scold you. You've been in Seireitei for months and still haven't been to visit."

"I've erm… been busy?" Ichigo replied wondering how the hell he was supposed to deal with this. He didn't want to end up exploded just because he accidentally said something and set the guy off. Konso on a living shinigami. The thought of it was enough to make Ichigo shudder.

"I'm sure you have. But that's no excuse. Your cousin is looking forward to meeting you."

Cousin? Was there another one, or was Ukitake talking about Kaien? His very, very dead cousin, Kaien. Ichigo had a horrible suspicion Ukitake meant the latter. He glanced around desperately, hoping to see someone who might come and rescue him. Byakuya had vanished. Ichigo spotted him about a hundred yards away talking to Yoruichi.

"Next week," Ukitake continued. "You must come and take tea with us, next Friday." When Ichigo opened his mouth to protest, Ukitake held up a hand. "No, I won't hear any more excuses. Kaien is quite determined when he puts his mind to these things."

He did mean Kaien. Crap. Where the hell was Kira?

"It's a pity. You could have brought Abarai-kun with you, Kaien's often expressed a wish to see him again." The smile was back, now brighter and sharper, "But I suppose not after this. So sad. So unexpected. Poor Byakuya." He looked over at Byakuya who was still talking intently with Yoruichi. "He's already so distrustful, like so many of the young ones." The razor-sharp green gaze returned to Ichigo. "They don't remember, you see, what it used to be like before. Even Shunsui's forgotten. He scared it out of all of them. Filled their heads with fear until they couldn't see or hear anything else."

Ichigo frowned. Was Ukitake talking about Aizen? That made the most sense from context.

"And now everyone hides in their own corner, covers tucked over their head, afraid of the monsters in the dark. Which is exactly what he wants, you see. A careless child, playing tricks with people's minds until, SNAP!" A painfully thin hand, with nails bitten to the quick, flashed out and smacked Ichigo's cheek.

It was like being touched by pure electricity. Ichigo bit back a yelp and hopped backwards, looking around for help again.

Ukitake followed, bringing with him the scent of ozone. Except, no, that wasn't a scent. It was Ukitake's reiatsu. Powerful and old like Kyōraku-taichō and Unohana, but with a roiling power to it that built with spiralling dizziness as Ukitake talked and talked in quick-fire jerky sentences.

"Snap, snap, snap, like small bones. Or whips, or prison doors. Locked away in the deep dark. That's where they put him for so many years. Like your father. Horrible temperamental child, always lashing out at someone. Just like our little Bya-kun. Yet they grew up so differently. Isshin always laughing and Byakuya such a serious withdrawn little boy. I blame his uncle. Terrible cruel streak. When they come to call, he never gives poor Sōjun a moment's peace. Always on at him to investigate this, dig into that. I sent him away once, but he's always coming back. He's everywhere, always watching, always listening."

Ichigo swallowed nervously. It was like someone had switched the guy on and now he couldn't stop. Was he talking about Byakuya's uncle and father? Byakuya's dead uncle and father. And couldn't someone please come and rescue him?

"Now, now, don't scare the boy, Jyūshiro."

Ichigo had _never_ been so happy to see anyone in his life. Ukitake abandoned him immediately, turning to Kyōraku-taichō and holding out a hand. Kyōraku took it without demur, not even commenting when Ukitake brought it straight to his lips and began pressing kisses to the knuckles, one at a time.

"Ichigo-kun," Kyōraku said, peering past Ichigo with a frown. "Where's your shadow?"

Shadow? Oh, Hanatarō. "He's erm…" Ichigo looked round, hoping to catch sight of him. He hadn't actually noticed the kid had vanished again. Not that Ichigo blamed him. The amount of reiatsu swirling around during the sealing had put his teeth on edge. "Over there, sir," he said, finally spotting him sitting on a rock beside Urahara and… Was that Yoruichi standing with them? And if so, where was Byakuya?

He was a few yards away from the others talking to a small blond woman who Ichigo thought he recognised from around the Kuchiki estate. As he talked, he gestured emphatically. The woman looked close to tears when Yoruichi stalked over and interceded. Byakuya turned on her instead. There was a brief, vicious looking exchange of words and then Byakuya stepped into shunpo and vanished. Ichigo was able to track him for long enough to work out he was heading back to the 6th. Or the estate.

"I need to go, sir," Ichigo said. He didn't know why specifically, but whatever had happened didn't look good.

"No," Kyōraku replied, his deep voice even sadder than usual. "There's something you need to hear first."

* * *

Her name was Tamiko, and Ichigo had been right about her working at the Kuchiki estate. She was the cook's assistant and had worked there for over a century. She was also one of the witnesses to Renji's supposed attempted murder, which, Ichigo guessed, explained why Byakuya had been shouting at her.

Introductions done, Kyōraku smiled at Tamiko and said, "If wouldn't mind, my dear, could you tell us about your encounter with Abarai-kun the morning of the challenges?"

She gave him a nod and glanced nervously around the reassembled ranks of captains before saying, "He was inside the doctor's tent. I needed an errand running - the fish merchant hadn't delivered on time and the cook was getting his hair off, so I went to find Abarai-fukutaichō because he's always good for providing a quick pair of feet when they're needed.

"Anyway," she said, "I saw him coming out of the doctor's tent with my own eyes."

"Just a reminder to you all," Kyōraku put in, "The poison which almost killed Kuchiki was traced to a reel of suturing silk in the physician's chest. The doctor was put to question immediately after the incident and claimed no knowledge of how it got there. It was concluded that it had been planted by another's hand and that the doctor had used it unknowingly."

That said, he turned back to Tamiko. "Did Abarai-kun say why he was in the tent?"

"No, but he looked really shifty and started coming on to me something rotten when I asked him to do me a favour."

"Think I'd have been more suspicious if he hadn't," Madarame pointed out. "Sounds like pretty normal behaviour to me."

"No, sir," she said immediately, shaking her head and making golden ringlets bounce. "I mean, I always flirted with him a little bit. He's…" Colour flushed her cheeks and her eyes fluttered closed for second before she continued, "He's a sweet guy and there's no harm in window shopping, right? But he never even looked at me twice before. I always thought it was because he was Kuchiki-sama's boy, but that day, it was like he was a different person. He looked at me like a woman, you know."

"Looked at yer tits, ya mean," Zaraki boomed, confirming Ichigo's impression that the guy was a total dick.

Tamiko flushed scarlet but wasn't intimidated beyond tugging at the front of her deep green yukata. "And why shouldn't he? There's nothing wrong with them."

"Ah, come on," Hirako's drawl cut through the laughter which followed her comment. "This is all the evidence they had? That Abarai was in the doctor's tent and suddenly remembered he was a ladies' man? He could have been doing anything in there." He gestured to Tamiko and added with an vicious edge, "Hells, he could have been doing her in there and now she wants some payback!"

Ichigo wanted to punch him for that. Not because Renji wouldn't go with Tamiko, but because, even if he did, he'd never talk shit about her afterwards and he'd hate anyone else doing it too.

But he had to keep his temper. Whatever came out during this, Ichigo had to suck it up and listen because this was what Central had used to put Renji away. So this was what Ichigo was going to have to disprove to get him back out again.

Tamiko retreated followed by more laughter, heading straight for Yoruichi, who put a comforting arm around her.

"Would that you were right about Abarai, Hirako-taichō," Kyōraku said as she went. "If you were, we would have been saved at least some of today's tragedy. Unfortunately there's more to come." He lifted his fingers to his mouth and let loose a long loud whistle. A moment later his lieutenant arrived escorting a young-looking shinigami with wavy shoulder-length hair and a scar down one side of his face. Ichigo was pretty sure he'd never seen him before in his life, though several of the captains perked up at the sight of him like they knew him well.

"Tsukishima Shūkurō," the shinigami said, when Kyōraku gestured him forwards. He bowed to the officers and began speaking, unbelievably calmly considering who he was dealing with. "I'm the joint fifth seat of the 4th division," he said, which explained the calm. He was used to dealing with Unohana-taichō. "I was recently placed in charge of supervising the allocation of medical supplies to the Gotei 13.

"About three weeks ago I was going back through the books and discovered an order which struck me as a being strange. Buried in the usual monthly requisition from the 6th was an order for two reels of dissolving sutures."

"Two?" Madarame barked. "For that lot of pansies? What they doing with it, tying each other up?"

Tsukishima flushed. "As it happens that was the precise reason given to me when I questioned Takata-san, the senior medic at the 6th. It appears that Abarai-fukutaichō had commandeered the reels at the behest of his captain and, though he offered no explanation himself, Takata-san had assumed it was for, 'personal use,' and hadn't asked questions. The reels were taken two weeks before the day of the attempted murder."

Well crap. That stuck Renji right in the frame for trying to kill Byakuya. The trouble was, reels of suture silk were totally something Ichigo could imagine Byakuya playing with too, which meant Takata's assumption had probably been right. But it didn't look good for Renji.

The captains knew it too. The atmosphere changed from mockery to disquiet.

"This should have turned up during the initial investigation." Mugurama's tone fit his profile. From what Ichigo had read, the guy was a perfectionist and expected the same of his people.

"Possibly, however the order from the 6th was placed well after the investigation concluded and at the time there had been no reason to suspect anyone from the 6th was involved."

"Why not? Seems like the most obvious place to start to me. Some jumped up prick trying to take out his captain."

"Not every unit is like yours, you barbarian," Kurotsuchi snapped at Zaraki. "However, in retrospect, it does seem there might have been some dissatisfaction in the ranks. Who would have guessed."

Okay that was just taking the piss. "You lying piece of shit!" Ichigo snarled, hand reaching for Zangetsu as he stepped forward. "You were the one who poisoned Byakuya, and everyone damn well knows it!"

For a guy with a skull painted on his face, Kurotsuchi did a great impression of feigning innocence. "Me?" he said, pressing a hand to his chest like he hadn't threatened to cut Renji to pieces just a couple of hours ago. "And yet, despite your protestations, where is your proof?"

Fucker was right, except…

"The poison! Byakuya said it was the one made by your zanpakutō."

A heavy hand landed on Ichigo's shoulder. He glanced up to find Kyōraku smiling down at him sadly. "Unfortunately not, Ichigo-kun. The poison was analysed carefully and they weren't the same, though the effects were similar enough that it's not surprising Byakuya mistook the two. The one which almost killed him is made from a plant commonly found in fourth district, west Rukongai, and can be bought by anyone with the right money down in The Pits." The implication that Renji was 'anyone' came through loud and clear

Ichigo stared at him. Kyōraku didn't look like he was lying, but he had to be. Kurotsuchi had done the poisoning, that was a fact. He'd told Byakuya during the challenge bout. But there was no evidence. No one outside the arena had been able to hear the confession, Kurotsuchi had spoken too quietly, so it was his word against Byakuya's. And Byakuya had been delirious and dying at the time.

Fuck.

"Tsukishima-kun, why was this not brought to my immediate attention?" Unohana's question turned every eye to her and then back on her fifth seat.

He dropped a bow to his captain and replied calmly. "Initially I considered it of no importance. Takata-san provided a reasonable, if unpalatable, explanation. I simply warned her that the suture material was costly and that the 6th would be charged extra if such a thing happened again."

Unohana seemed to think about that for a second before nodding minutely and saying, "I see. And later, when the possibility of Abarai's involvement came to light?"

"Because I was ordered not to by Central 46, ma'am," Tsukishima answered frankly.

"How the hell did it come to light anyway?" Aikawa demanded. It was about time someone asked that. Ichigo had been wondering himself. What shitty little bastard had made the first accusation?

"Through my apprentice," Tsukishima began, just as Kyōraku-taichō said, "Our final witness." He lifted his fingers to his lips but paused before whistling. "Ichigo-kun," he said, "Please do not do or say anything you may regret." And then the whistle rang out.

A moment later Kira arrived, which explained where he'd been, but Ichigo didn't spare him a glance. He was more interested in the person holding Kira's hand.

"Yuzu?" Dressed in a yellow yukuta with orange maple leaves, she looked exactly the same as the last time Ichigo had seen her. Before all the clan stuff kicked off and his life went to hell. But what was she doing here? She was supposed to be safe, back at the 4th learning to be a nurse, not down here with murders and politics.

"Hello there, Yuzu," Kyōraku said, leaning down on his knees and smiling broadly at her, "Do you remember me from earlier?"

"Yes, sir," she replied in that familiar clear voice of hers, that always reached you when dinner was ready wherever you were in the house. "You're Kyōraku Shunsui, captain of the 8th division and head of the Kyōraku family. You're almost two and a half thousand years old, are starting to suffer from arthritis in your left knee and, according to Unohana-taichō, need to eat more vegetables."

Kyōraku blinked at her and then looked over at Unohana. "I thought medical records were confidential?"

"Only when the information is not general knowledge," she said, with a distinct glint in her eye. "I find your case a useful object lesson for the brighter students."

"I see," Kyōraku stood up straight, eyebrows climbing. "Well, in that case we should probably get on." He cleared his throat, neatly silencing the others who'd been snickering quietly at his expense, and said, "This is Kurosaki Yuzu, apprentice under Tsukishima Shūkurō at the 4th division."

_Yuzu_ was the one who'd first accused Renji?

Remembering Kyōraku's warning about being too hasty, Ichigo bit back the need to protect his sister, or maybe to demand answers from her, and listened.

As he had with Tamiko, Kyōraku said, "Can you tell us what you saw that morning?"

Yuzu flashed him a smile. "Yes, sir. It was after breakfast. I needed to use the bathroom and Kira-san, said he'd show me where it was." She smiled at Kira, who returned it with something a bit watery. "Only I got lost on the way back and ended up behind another tent, and that's when I heard Abarai-san talking to himself. I can't remember his exact words, but he was really cross with Byakuya-sama. And with Kira and my brother too, I think. He was cursing lots and saying rude things about nobles."

"Don't we all," Hirako muttered loud enough for everyone to hear.

Yuzu shot him a confused look. "But why would he say such horrible things if he didn't mean them?"

"I dunno," Zaraki offered. "Maybe he was fed up with getting fucked by one every time he bent down."

This time Zangestu was out and Ichigo was across the circle before he even realised he was moving. No one spoke in front of his sister like that!

The sound of steel sliding against steel rang loud across the hill top. A second later Yuzu gasped, and Hirako's amazed, "Hot shit!" was immediately echoed by several others.

Three swords had met. Zangetsu, Zaraki's pitted nameless blade, and between them Unohana's Minazuki. The 4th's captain had been standing beside Ukitake. Now she stood, head down, sword arm at full reach, with Minazuki resting against Zaraki's throat and Zangetsu grasped in her other hand. Zaraki's blade stood upright in the ground several feet away and Ichigo was on his knees in front of her, numbed fingers held to his chest.

"Thank you, Kenpachi," Kyōraku was saying. "You can stand down. I'm sure both gentleman have got the message."

Ichigo had. Now he got why Byakuya and Zangetsu hadn't let him fight her. It would have been suicide.

Taking Zangetsu from Unohana's hand with a deep, and very respectful bow, Ichigo retreated as Kyōraku said, "Carry on please, Yuzu."

"Y-yes, sir," she replied, stepping forwards a bit nervously and glancing at Unohana out the corner of her eye. At a guess, that was probably the first time Yuzu had seen her captain fight, Ichigo thought, and to be fair, the stories didn't do her justice. She'd been so fast he hadn't even seen her move.

"Erm… I hate it when people say rude things, especially about my friends, or my big brother, so I decided to go in there and tell him he was being mean."

Ichigo's heart sank. That was so plausible. To some people, Yuzu might seem like a wuss, but she was just as brave as Karin in her own way.

"I opened the tent door and Abarai-san was standing in front of a big wooden chest with lots of drawers. He had one drawer open and was messing about with something inside. It looked like a reel of black thread."

And there it was, eye-witness testimony. Given by the one person Ichigo could never accuse of deliberately lying. Could she have been mistaken? Unlikely. That sounded pretty definitive. But she might have been manipulated. She might have had images planted in her mind.

"I say again, why has this only come to light now?" Muguruma asked. "Was the girl not questioned at the time?"

"At the time, the girl had just left her family and was settling into a new life at the 4th," Kyōraku said. Over by Muguruma, Ichigo heard Aikawa mutter something about her really being a Shiba, which seemed to clear up that question. Muguruma nodded and said, "Okay, but why now."

"It does seem awfully convenient," Urahara said, the first words out of his mouth since this all started. Ichigo glared at him, but it was water off a duck's back. "Abarai gets arrested for breaking parole and all of sudden we're up to our necks in conspiracies."

"Good question," Aikawa said, "Though I totally buy Abarai as a murderer, he seems the type."

"But not of Kuchiki," Hirako put in, "Abarai taking a shot at Ichimaru? Yeah, that I'd believe. But not Kuchiki."

Way to condemn someone you're trying to save, Ichigo thought. But it was good to hear other people voicing doubts about Renji's guilt. It reminded him of the ones who'd turned up at the 12th to rescue Renji. He wasn't alone in this. There were potential allies.

Ichimaru was shrugging in apparent agreement. "It sure don't sound like something Abarai-kun'd do."

"You think he's innocent?" Ichigo asked. He had to know. If Ichimaru doubted, did he think Yuzu had been manipulated? Did he think Aizen was involved? And was he prepared to say that in front of everyone?

Ichimaru inclined his head. With his eyes slitted and that smile, he looked just like a fox listening for prey. "Did ya hear a mouse squeaking? Or was it a kitten pretending to be cat?"

"You're an ass, Ichimaru," Aikawa said and then added in Ichigo's direction. "All I'm saying is, Abarai's a gaki. It takes more than half a century to wash that stink off."

"Ya own mother was from out there, Love, don't forget it." Hirako looked around pointedly. "No one else here has."

"Gentlemen!" Kyōraku's voice rang out, silencing the argument that was starting to break out. "Let us focus on the facts, please."

"And the fact still remains that this seems very convenient," Urahara said again. His attention turned to Yuzu. "Kurosaki-san, can you tell us why you decided to bring this up now?"

Yuzu gazed up at him with a stricken expression. "Because I heard about what happened," she said, before swinging round to look at Ichigo, eyes wide and wet, hands clasped to her chest. "I'm sorry, nii-chan! I know he's your friend, but I couldn't stand the idea that you might get hurt helping him when I knew he tried to kill Byakuya-sama!"

If someone had put a gun to his heart and pulled the trigger, if couldn't have been any more painful. Ichigo swallowed down the agony and opened his arms. With a cry, Yuzu flew towards him and fell sobbing onto his shoulder.

His disgustingly filthy shoulder, he realised after a moment or two. "Yuzu, Yuzu, hey," he said, trying to ease her away. She wouldn't let go of him.

"Here," a voice said, and someone tucked something into the gap between them. It was a white haori with a number 10 on the back. Ichigo looked up to find Madarame scowling at him. "It had Abarai's blood on it already," he shrugged, "Wasn't like a bit more'd make any difference."

"Thanks," Ichigo said, turning his attention back to his sister. She'd had her hair cut. One pale brown strand had fallen loose over her face and Ichigo tucked it gently back behind her ear.

Life was strange. Yuzu had condemned his innocent lover to jail for three thousand years, but he couldn't be mad at her. Because she'd done it for all the right reasons. If she hadn't been scared for him, she would have kept what she'd seen a secret, for him.

Whether what she'd seen was real or some image placed in her head by Aizen, didn't actually matter at the end of the day. To Yuzu it was real, which meant her feelings about this were real. And now she was hurting.

Days ago, Ichigo had made himself a promise. If Aizen hurt his sisters, he would track the bastard down and kill him, slowly and painfully.

Standing there with his sister in his arms and the bickering officers of the Gotei 13 behind him, Ichigo renewed the pledge. Aizen was going die.


	18. Feel Your Way - Response

Byakuya stumbled up the front steps of his quarters not stopping long enough to even slip off his sandals before making for the library. The door screeched in its tracks as he slammed it open. When it reached the full extent of the groove, it bounced against the stops and toppled with a crash to the floor. Byakuya ignored it. He had something he needed to find. Something he had to find.

Books cascaded from the shelves as he searched, sent tumbling by hands that cared not a jot for their fragile paper and ancient ink. Compared to the encounter he had just experienced, mere words were as nothing.

There! Finally. His fingers closed around the leather bound log. Painstakingly constructed over centuries by his uncle, the entire work contained a detailed list of all known zanpakutō and their abilities in the history of Soul Society. This, the only one in his library here, was the fifth of over a hundred volumes.

"Kuchiki-sama, I heard a noise. Is everything - My lord?" Koji, his personal retainer stood in the open doorway, gaping in horror at the mess.

Sparing him no more than a single glance, Byakuya snapped, "Leave me!"

"But my lord-?"

"I said, Go!" The blast of reiatsu accompanying the shout shook the other door from its runners but it had the desired effect. Koji hauled up his hakama and fled.

Byakuya inhaled deeply and, now making an effort to curb his destructive inclinations, carried the book to the desk and placed it carefully down. The entry he was looking for should be near the back.

There were other sources for this information of course; the text he had shown Ichigo for example, which was just one of several on his shelves; but they were all produced by external agencies, writers who Byakuya did not know personally and thus did not trust. This work was the closest thing to the absolute truth he could envisage.

The pages fell open on a double spread, one much brooded over through the years: Isshin's Engetsu. Byakuya's heart thudded in his chest as he flicked past it, further back in time until he reached the entry he wanted. Spreading the book flat, he leaned over it, devouring text and illustration both, running his fingers over the delicate water-colour rendition of the blade that seemed more accurate to life than any photograph, looking for some deviation, some subtle difference.

There was none.

It _had_ been Kyōka Suigetsu.

Byakuya sat down with an undignified thud. There could be no doubt; the sword in Aizen's hand had been the forbidden zanpakutō, or a very skillfully made copy. But had what he'd experienced up on the hill been Aizen's complete hypnosis? Despite the evidence, the feeble hope still lingered that perhaps he'd been mistaken. That it had been some trick or stunt perpetrated with the help of some other devious mind like Kurotsuchi or Urahara, or some new kidō which Aizen had developed to get around his keepers.

But whatever the cause, there had been no mistaking its effect. No trick beyond the trick of the mind which had stolen away his last precious hope.

Fingers curling paper older than himself, Byakuya closed his eyes and remembered.

"Several high ranking nobles petitioned for clemency. Not for the prisoner, who deserves no mercy at all, but for the victim."

The Judge's eyes met his and Byakuya's temper flared. Noble blood may run in this overdressed worm's veins, but he was from a minor house. Without his appointment to Central 46, he would have been grovelling for the least of Byakuya's favour, and now he had the gall to look on the Head of the Kuchiki clan with pity?

Better instead to pity the fate of whatever cowardly brute had dared made these accusations in the first place. And yes, Byakuya could admit to a moment of doubt when confronted by the charge. But it had been fleeting! Based solely on Renji's face during their last encounter, which surely even Renji's most adamant of defenders would have interpreted as antagonistic.

Byakuya's fingers fluttered as though tracing again the wet stickiness Renji had left in his hair and across his kenseikan. He had known that Renji was resentful of the nobility, it was a natural state for all those from outside the wall, but until that moment he had never suspected that that resentment went so deep or cut so personally. He had always thought himself exempt by some magic or miracle. Until then.

But Renji's words, filtered through the tinny tones of Kurotsuchi's butterfly had put it all back into perspective. In extremis Renji had cried out Byakuya's name. Not taichō or Kuchiki, but 'Byakuya,' and had begged, not to be saved like some lowly cur, but for Byakuya to ignore the attempt at blackmail. It was an act worthy of the highest noble family and simply served to convince Byakuya that, whatever perverseness had overcome Renji the previous day, it had been fleeting.

Renji loved him. Renji loved him enough to sacrifice himself for Byakuya's name and honour, and as a noble Byakuya understood that such a sacrifice was to be honoured, not cast away as Ichigo had tried to do.

Even so, Byakuya had not been able to let Renji go entirely without a fight. Raising the issue of broken parole had been an act of desperation, knowing as he did that the punishment would likely be severe. But even that had been too late. Another had already set things in motion and Byakuya had been left floundering as the great beast of Gotei justice groaned to life.

But all of that paled into insignificance when compared to this.

Attempted murder, of Byakuya himself.

Unlike before, there would be no appealing the penalty this time. The broken parole had been firmly Gotei business. Since Byakuya was a clan-head, the murder charge was civil, and thus fell strictly under the aegis of Central 46. And the rule there was for fast secretive investigations and quiet resolutions. That the captains were even being told what had been decided was merely a courtesy.

Or maybe not.

Another possibility crept into Byakuya's mind, one that made more sense the more he thought about it.

He flashed a glance at Kurotsuchi, who was doing an admirable impression of an innocent man. But this had to be another attempt at blackmail! Foiled in his previous effort to get Shiba Karin, Kurotsuchi must have created this ridiculous scenario in order to force Byakuya to his knees and gain his prize. He expected Byakuya to beg and plead for his lover's life and then he would concoct some dubious scheme to play Renji's freedom off against Karin's.

Well, Byakuya would not allow that to happen. When he had promised Karin that he would protect her from Kurotsuchi, he had meant it. Not just for that moment, but forever. He would not exchange an innocent, not even for Renji, who had made his feelings abundantly clear on the subject. And if that meant standing and watching as Renji was destroyed by the Sōkyoku, then that is what Byakuya would do. Though it would tear him apart, it would not be the first time he lost someone he loved to another's vile machinations.

And then, with his next words, the Judge destroyed Byakuya's carefully deduced conclusion. "Abarai Renji, for the crime of the attempted murder of a True First noble, you are sentenced to have your powers sealed and be confined for three thousand years in Shugo, the third level of the underground prison."

"No!" Renji's howl of anguish cut through the night.

For once, speech came before thought. "That is not acceptable," Byakuya said, stepping forwards. Not sealing. To take away Zabimaru would be to tear Renji's soul in two, more so by far than for most shinigami. And not imprisonment either. Not in Shugo with its seething uncontrolled masses. Byakuya had seen a man from Shugo once, if he could still be called that. Confined for less than a decade, he was nothing but a rabid beast, every scrap of humanity scoured away by conditions behind Shugo's towering iron doors. Byakuya could not condemn Renji to that for even a moment. Even if it meant death. Because Byakuya had learnt that there were things worse than dying.

But oh, what a clever attempt at manipulation.

Having concluded that Byakuya would allow Renji to die rather than succumb to his blackmail, Kurotsuchi had obviously changed his strategy. No matter, it would still fail. Ignoring Ichigo's confusion, Byakuya made his case clear, "I refuse the clemency offered and demand that full sentence be carried out immediately."

"You want them to kill him?" Ichigo demanded.

Later, when this vileness was over, Byakuya would attempt to explain. For now, he allowed Ichigo's words to wash over him and kept his gaze fixed on the Judge. Byakuya had shown his hand, proved that he would not be coerced into breaking the promise he had made to Karin. Would the Judge reveal himself as Kurotsuchi's creature now or would this farce continue?

"It has to be Aizen," Ichigo was saying and for a brief moment Byakuya felt sorry for him, for still deluding himself with such tales. Aizen was not the source of all evil within Soul Society, not with so much of his power contained.

The world slid sideways and suddenly, rather than being on his hands and knees as Byakuya remembered, Renji was up on his feet, though not steadily. Most of his weight was resting on Zabimaru and, as he turned towards Byakuya, hand out in supplication, he swayed dangerously.

"Don't listen to them," he was saying, voice hoarsely desperate, pleading. "Please, Byakuya. Just kill me. Please, don't let them take my Zabi away. You know I'd rather die than lose my Zabimaru."

"I will," Byakuya said, "I promise, Renji. By my own hand, I will kill you before I let them seal away your zanpakutō."

Renji seemed to listen, staring intently in Byakuya's direction, bloody and bruised face so full of hope that when it twisted into despair and Renji fell to his knees with a tortured, "No! Please gods, no!" Byakuya felt it like a physical blow. Had Renji not heard him?

"Stop!" Byakuya cried as the Judge called the captain of the Kidō corps forwards. "Wait, this isn't over! I insist that sentence is carried out!"

His words fell on deaf ears. Reiatsu swirled around Tsukabishi, sending his dark blue and gold robe flapping around his legs. With his free hand, Tsukabishi formed a sign, one Byakuya knew formed the basis of the highest level of sealing kidō, and then the Kidō captain began to chant, his deep rich voice rolling out over the plateau.

"Great wheel, shifting stars. That which brings forth light."

"NO!" Byakuya screamed, drawing Senbonzakura and lunging at Tsukabishi. He had to stop him! He couldn't allow this to happen.

From literally nowhere, Aizen appeared between them, his sword blocking Byakuya's desperate thrust with terrible ease. The smile on his treacherous face said it all. This was an illusion, some trick of the mind.

Byakuya stopped in his tracks, momentarily frozen by indecision. What was real? Was this whole scene being played out in his mind and his mind alone, or was he the only one seeing the truth?

It was impossible to know. The simple fact that Aizen was in Soul Society and armed should have turned every captain's hand against him. But no outcry was happening. The captains, the Judge, all seemed oblivious to Aizen's presence, all watching as the seal began to coalesce through Renji's body, even as Renji begged and pleaded with them to kill him instead.

Not even Yamada Hanatarō, a negator specifically designed to detect Aizen's manipulations, seemed to be aware of what was going on. He crouched, shivering, at Ichigo's feet, while Ichigo himself gazed around in vain for a man who was standing not three feet from him.

Renji's distraught cry as Zabimaru was sealed away and Aizen's widening smile made Byakuya's mind up for him. Where it was happening made no difference. He couldn't deny the cruel need entwined in that voice.

"Chire!" Cherry blossom blades slammed into Aizen from every direction. The world slid sideways again and suddenly Aizen was right in front of him. A white ball of energy flashed before Byakuya's eyes and he crashed to the ground, blades drifting down like real cherry blossom around him, all control over his body gone. Shibireyubi, the numbing finger. The sensation was horribly, revoltingly, like Kurotsuchi's poison. Even the circumstances felt familiar.

Lying on the dusty ground, knowing that Renji was suffering, was going to be ripped apart unless Byakuya got to him in time, and yet being unable to move a muscle to achieve his goal was like having all his fears from the past few months brought to sudden and terrible life. The nightmares that Byakuya could now admit had haunted his waking hours as well as his sleeping ones, and made him alternately clutch Renji close and push him away with callous words and deeds.

The jangle from Tsukabishi's ringed staff echoed back across Seireitei and Renji's cries faded to nothing along with his reiatsu. It was done. Even if he were free, Byakuya would not be able to break the seal.

It was over. And just like before, Byakuya had failed.

"Not as satisfactory as I'd hoped, however it served a function," Aizen said, just as Ichigo whispered, "Tell me they can undo that."

He meant the seal. Despite his ridiculous position sprawled at Aizen's feet, Byakuya felt his usual surge of annoyance at how the boy still refused to think things through before he acted.

"What do you think?" Aizen asked, raising an eyebrow at Byakuya, "Should we dash his hopes or tell him the truth?"

Suddenly finding his mouth free to speak, Byakuya replied coolly, "If you lie, he will simply find out the truth for himself later."

"Excellently said, Kuchiki-taichō. The truth it is then." Aizen waved a hand at Ichigo and said, "It can be undone by a sufficiently skilled practitioner."

Ichigo, appearing to assume it was Byakuya who had answered him, seemed relieved at the answer, and entirely oblivious to Renji's cries as he was lowered to the ground. In a way Byakuya was almost glad of it. The desolate sound was tearing him apart. If Ichigo heard the same, Byakuya was in no doubt that he would be laying about himself with his sword right now. And would end up dead for his pains. Nor would he do the very thing that Renji was begging for, because it wasn't in Ichigo to lift his blade against a loved one, even in mercy. Not yet it wasn't. Though one day soon perhaps it would.

Aizen, watching it all with the intrigued fascination of a scientist, remained silent until the guards hauled Renji swaying to his feet. Then he sighed and turned away, saying, "I'm disappointed. Having been told he was a strong fighter, I was expecting more. A single small set-back and he's completely given up."

As Aizen paced, the Judge asked Renji if he had any last words. Byakuya strained to hear, desperate for some reassurance that Renji was still fighting.

Standing hunched and small in his nakedness, Renji replied, "There's no point. There ain't no one wants ta hear 'em."

His words felt like a blade to the heart. Moved beyond bearing it, Byakuya demanded, "Why? Why are you doing this? What has he ever done to you?"

"Abarai?" Aizen stopped pacing, glanced briefly at Byakuya and then looked over at Renji. "He's done nothing. He is nothing, except perhaps a simple means to a satisfying end. A tool, if you will, to crack a particularly troublesome nut."

Which told him nothing. The guards began to lead Renji away. As he walked, his braid swung almost to his waist, escaped tendrils merging with webs of blood to replace bold black lines with crimson and carmine tracery.

"He'll fight," Byakuya said, watching him go. "He may look defeated but he never gives up."

"Of course he doesn't," Aizen replied calmly. "If he'd given up easily, he'd never have survived you, would he, Kuchiki-taichō. Ah, but I'm misunderstanding. You mean the prison? I'm sure he'll do fine. After all, he's a strapping young man and I was only a child when they locked me away. I managed to survive for twenty years without going insane."

It was debatable whether Aizen had been sane to start with, but that wasn't what struck Byakuya about Aizen's words. Nor, surprisingly was it about Renji needing to be resilient to survive Byakuya's attentions. That was true. Their early days had been packed with mishaps that would have killed a lesser man. Or driven him to run. Byakuya regretted them all, but there was little purpose to that. It didn't change anything. It never could.

But knowledge did. "Central 46 sent you to Shugo as a child?" he asked. And then had the temerity to call it mercy. Byakuya knew he shouldn't be surprised, he'd been living within this system his entire life, and yet somehow it still on occasion managed to shock him.

"Where else would they send me, a commoner convicted of murder?"

Convicted by the testimony of his own zanpakutō, the one dragged from his inner soul by Byakuya's uncle and coerced into informing on its master. "This is about revenge?" Byakuya hazarded finally.

"Of course." As Renji crossed the rope bridge, Aizen's expression grew distant. "I wonder how he'll get on with the friends I have waiting inside. They were quite excited at the prospect of getting a new toy to play with."

Byakuya swallowed down fear and bile. "You're going to kill him."

"Eventually. It might take a while." The smile Aizen tossed Byakuya's way was self-satisfied in the extreme. "But it's good to see that you do grasp the implications. I was beginning to think you were as slow as you are arrogant, and that would have been an unfortunate combination." Now Renji was out of sight, Aizen had turned his attention in the other direction and was staring intently at something beyond the scaffold. It seemed to be Kyōraku and Yoruichi, though being still unable to move, Byakuya couldn't be sure. Had Aizen ever been standing over there with them, or had that been part of the illusion as well?

A pensive frown grew on Aizen's face as he continued, "For a while I considered killing the rest of your family and letting you take the blame, but as a noble they would have given you a cell of your own, so in the end I opted to destroy Abarai instead. Your affection for him during the Challenges made the decision simple, though I admit to a moment's annoyance that I didn't have the opportunity to place you in a cell next to Shiba Isshin. It would have amused me. The two of you could have exchanged notes on being notorious killers of Kuchiki."

"So it was you who killed my father and Kōga as well?" Byakuya felt a surge of hope, for this at least. All those years of blaming Isshin, was it possible…?

"Oh, no. I am entirely innocent of those murders," Aizen denied immediately. "They are Isshin's alone. I was in Hueco Mundo and had to satisfy myself with hearing the news secondhand."

It had been Isshin. Always supposing Aizen wasn't lying, of course. And that this wasn't some fever dream his brain was experiencing while in the grip of some fiendish new kidō. Perhaps he was, even now, standing mute and unaware as they led Renji away. It was still impossible to tell.

As Aizen passed through his line of sight once more, Byakuya strained his eyes to study the sword he was carrying. With its green hilt and bronze coloured tsuba, it looked superficially like his zanpakutō, and yet how easy would it be to make a katana which looked the same. Still, there were other ways of looking, and Byakuya was his uncle's heir in all things. Eyes closed, he reached out, using his reiatsu to feel his way towards Aizen.

The man had stopped walking again, allowing Byakuya to brush against the sword gently enough not to be noticed. Was it awake? Would it respond?

Any potential answer was drowned out by the sudden swell of Ukitake's uncontrolled reiatsu. Vast as the sea and just as deep, it obliterated everything in the vicinity like the city lights in the Living World darkened their stars to nothingness. Well experienced at being in Ukitake's presence, Byakuya rode the currents easily, using it to discover precisely who he was speaking to, and why.

"You're so much like your father," Ukitake was saying, "Though I must scold you. You've been in Seireitei for months and still haven't been to visit." His tone seemed friendly and relaxed, which was reassuring.

And there was the other, swimming for its life within that ocean of reiatsu. Golden-yellow and tinged with belligerent panic, it was unmistakable. "I've erm… been busy?" Ichigo replied.

This wasn't good. Of all the people for Ukitake to encounter, Ichigo was the most likely to set off one of his episodes. His resemblance to his deceased cousin was almost uncanny.

Ukitake's next words were hardly reassuring. "I'm sure you have. But that's no excuse. Your cousin is looking forward to meeting you." He was talking about Kaien, of course. "Next week, you must come and take tea with us. Next Friday. No, I won't hear any more excuses. Kaien is quite determined when he puts his mind to these things."

Byakuya could sense the rising agitation in Ukitake's reiatsu already. Where was that boy who was supposed to be watching him, the one from the 4th. Kira?

"It's a pity. You could have brought Abarai-kun with you, Kaien's often expressed a wish to see him again." At the mention of Renji, Byakuya's heart contracted, but he forced himself to concentrate anyway. If this progressed too far, their only hope would be Kyōraku.

He was focusing so intently that, when Aizen spoke, so close to his ear that Byakuya felt the puff of breath against his skin, he almost swallowed his tongue. He also missed Ukitake's next words as Aizen said, "Good, you are listening. I was afraid you might miss this. Listen hard, Kuchiki Byakuya."

"They don't remember, you see, what it used to be like before," came Ukitake's voice, its tone becoming as agitated as his reiatsu. "Even Shunsui's forgotten. He scared it out of all of them. Filled their heads with fear until they couldn't see or hear anything else."

He'd heard Ukitake express these sentiments before. But only now did they make sense. Aizen. Ukitake was talking about how things had been before Aizen.

"And now everyone hides in their own corner, covers tucked over their head, afraid of the monsters in the dark. Which is exactly what he wants, you see. A careless child, playing tricks with people's minds until, SNAP!"

Ukitake lashed out with his reiatsu, suddenly and viciously, and, accompanied by those words, it was enough to make Byakuya start to fight again in earnest. This had to be stopped. If Ukitake lost control completely in this wide open space, he could decimate the Gotei's ranks. Literally.

This time when he struggled, the kidō melted away as though it had never been. Not stopping to think why or how, Byakuya was on his feet and stepping straight into shunpo. He had to get Kyōraku.

"Woah!" The body he collided with was as familiar as the sly hakuda move which brought him stumbling to a halt. "Sorry, Byakuya, you're not allowed over there."

"Now is not the time," he growled, reaching to move Yoruichi even as he knew it was pointless. "Ukitake is about to lose control."

"Ukitake?" Elegant brows drew down as she peered past him. "Damn, you're not wrong," she said, "How'd that happen so fast?" As she spoke, she lifted a hand and released a small kidō flare. The one they were all supposed to use if Ukitake became unstable. It was testimony to Byakuya's current state of mind that the protocol had entirely escaped him.

The rush of Kyōraku's shunpo made Byakuya's haori swirl around his legs as Yourichi said, "He was sitting with us a second ago."

"I think it was-" Byakuya was going to say, 'speaking to Ichigo', but Yourichi's words brought him up short. "He was sitting with you?" he said instead.

"Yeah," she replied. "Right up to when I saw you start heading over." She grinned, wicked as always. "You should have shunpo'd, Bya-bō. It was way too easy to catch you."

Ignoring the flirtation, Byakuya pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to think. Yoruichi was implying that she had seen him walking towards her when he was still trapped in Aizen's kidō. And that Ukitake was sitting with her, when he was already speaking to Ichigo. Which was real? _He_ thought he'd used shunpo, but was that all in his mind? Was it all Aizen's doing?

And where was Aizen now?

What had actually happened?

Struck by a sudden sense of panic, Byakuya looked around. "Where's Renji?" he demanded. Had they executed him or sealed him and sent him to Shugo? Or had it just been the whipping? Byakuya suddenly didn't know anymore and he needed to, desperately. If what Aizen had shown him was true then he had no time to dawdle. Renji had to be found before he was thrown into Shugo.

"They've taken him to prison. You watched him go, Byakuya." Yoruichi looked at him sadly. "I'm sorry he wasn't who you thought he was."

"You believe them!" he cried, unconsciously echoing the very accusation Ichigo had levelled at him such a short time ago. Heat burned his cheeks as he realised. He ignored it, ready to tell Yoruichi exactly what he thought of her inconstancy. Their marriage was supposed to be formalised within three weeks. Bad enough that she had allowed this travesty of justice to be perpetrated without informing him, that she also believed Renji guilty was sickening.

She cut him off with a raised hand. "There's evidence," she said, "Compelling evidence. That's why Kyōraku and I are here." With a little shake of her head, she cut her gaze to the side, adding, "To show you and Ichigo-kun, in the hopes it would help you come to terms with what had happened."

"Evidence? Hearsay and rumour, I'm sure. There's any number of people who would wish both of us ill-"

"Witnesses, Byakuya," she said. "Eye witnesses who saw his behaviour that morning. One of whom-"

"Kuchiki-sama! I'm so sorry, Kuchiki-sama!"

The pretty blond girl who threw herself at Byakuya's feet looked somewhat familiar. "And you are?" he asked, perhaps a little testily. She had, after all, interrupted his and Yoruichi's conversation.

"Tamiko, my lord," she replied, blinking up at him with wet blue eyes from a puddle of green cotton. "I'm the cook's assistant. At the estate."

Which would be why she looked familiar. "I see," he said, "And you are here because…?"

"She's one of the witnesses," Yoruichi said with a sigh, reaching down to haul the girl to her feet. "I know you're going to want to speak to her but, for goodness sake, Byakuya, just go easy, okay."

Byakuya waved away the annoying cat and set his sights on the servant. As soon as Yoruichi was a decent distance away, he began as he meant to carry on, by making this girl understand her position. "Whatever you think you saw, you were wrong," he told her. "As your rightful lord, I am ordering you to reverse your testimony immediately. It is unseemly that one of my own retainers stands in witness against me, and also impossible for you to be correct." Even Byakuya could admit that the last part came out a little petulantly.

"I c-can't my lord!" she protested. "Central 46 have already… I would… It would be perjury, my lord! I would be punished."

Perjury. Now there was a complicated word for a simple cook's assistant. Even more evidence, should Byakuya require it, that the girl had been groomed for her role. By Aizen? Or was someone manipulating his need for revenge as well. "Who is behind this," Byakuya snapped, advancing as the girl took a step back. "I will have an answer. Someone has put you up to this and-"

"Okay, that's enough!" Yoruichi snarled, sweeping in and gathering the girl up before Byakuya had a chance to get an answer out of her.

"I wasn't finished," he said, reaching for the girl's arm. He needed to know. Didn't they realise that Renji's life lay on the line here?

Yoruichi had the servant away before he could touch her, and was back again without her before he could set off in pursuit. "I told you to go easy," she growled, poking him in the chest. "Quit being such a bully. Just 'cause you've got the power doesn't give you the right to use it to hurt other people."

"If it's to save Renji, I'll hurt anyone I need to," Byakuya retorted without thought. He suspected he might not be thinking at all.

Yoruichi's hissed breath told him he had indeed gone too far. "Anyone?" she asked. "Even the witness who saw Renji put the impregnated sutures in the physician's chest?"

As she spoke, she looked back over in the direction she'd come from. There, chatting animatedly with the Kira boy, apparently oblivious to the tension building elsewhere, sat Kurosaki Yuzu.

That was the point at which Byakuya had fled. And it had been flight. He hadn't stopped once on his way back to his quarters because the implications of Yuzu being eye-witness to Renji's supposed crimes was shocking.

She was perfect in every possible way. A noble who lived the life of a commoner, a non-shinigami who resided within Seireitei. A healer and a child, and possibly most important of all, the sister of Renji's lover. What reason would she have to lie about him? And by the same token, what reason would anyone have to doubt her?

And yet she had to be wrong, because Renji had not tried to kill him. In all of this strangeness and incomprehensibility, Byakuya knew that for a fact.

To Byakuya's knowledge there was no kidō which could rewrite memories comprehensively. They could erase recent ones, as Aizen had attempted with Ichigo. They could twist perception, as he'd initially suspected Aizen had done to him. They could turn people invisible, put them to sleep, even render them entirely unconscious for long periods of time, but it was all done in the now, to things as they currently were, not to memories of things long past.

Techniques for changing long term memory were baser. A specialism of the onmitsukidō, they involved long drawn out sessions of torture, isolation and psychological manipulation and, for all his faults sometimes, even Ichigo would notice if his sister were being treated in such a way. Not to mention, she was under the protective eye of Unohana-taichō and thus, to all intents and purposes, safer than Central 46 locked behind its sealed doors and layers of security.

Denied those scenarios, the only logical conclusion was also the impossible one. That somehow the zanpakutō in Aizen's hand was real and what he'd used on Byakuya had been his 'complete hypnosis'. Not only that, but he had also been using it on others for an undefined amount of time. At least as far back as the Challenges if Kurosaki Yuzu was one of his victims.

No, Byakuya realised with rising dismay. Longer. Far far longer. Because if Aizen had been spotted in the 6th's secure compound during the challenges, he would have been arrested and brought before Byakuya to answer for his conduct. Which meant every single one of the 6th division who'd been at the arena that day had to have been exposed to Aizen's shikai.

And every single one of the captains and lieutenants on the hill today. Including the sōtaichō, the captain of the Kido corps, and the Judge from Central 46.

Byakuya stared in horror at the open pages beneath his hands, at the smug self-satisfied note jotted beside the entry in his uncle's inelegant blocky hand, 'Danger contained'. It was wrong. They were all wrong. Secure in their denial, hiding in their separate corners with the covers over their heads, surrounded by the false security of mods and negators and highly trained guards, while the monster prowled the dark picking them off one at a time.

For how long? And who?

Aizen had denied it, but Isshin? Had that night all been illusion? Was Ichigo right after all? Was his father innocent?

And Ukitake?

Byakuya had suspected something was wrong, in retrospect it was obvious, and… what? Had it been Aizen who'd sent him mad?

Ukitake's words to Ichigo returned: "A careless child, playing tricks with people's minds until, SNAP!"

Snap, the mind was broken, splintered into pieces.

In the aftermath of Kaien's death it would have been all too easy. Ukitake had been vulnerable, even Byakuya had noticed that. His assertions that the Gotei needed to put aside its differences and fight together against external threats had become more vociferous, and then his madness had taken hold and somehow everyone stopped listening to what he said because everyone knew they were just the ramblings of a mad man.

It was perfect. A murder would have raised suspicions and possibly questions even Aizen would struggle to answer. In sending Ukitake mad, Aizen had silenced him just as effectively.

But it could not all be going Aizen's way. The negator on the hill might have been reduced to uselessness by the sheer quantity of reiatsu being released during the sealing, but in the normal run of things they had to restrict Aizen somewhat. And there was always Tōsen Kaname, Aizen's original nemesis.

Had Hirako sent his fukutaichō away as some of the others had? Byakuya couldn't remember. Aizen had seemed quite on edge at times while he'd been speaking to Byakuya. Could he have been watching for Tōsen?

With an alacrity which bordered on frantic, Byakuya grabbed brush, ink and paper. He had to know. Armed with the knowledge of Tōsen's whereabouts, he could then be certain. And once he was sure, he could act.

"Koji!" he called as he wrote a brief missive to the 5th's captain. His letter would be considered eccentric probably, but was also more likely to garner him a reply than a personal visit. That would be met with hostility, or at best by Hirako's unpleasant tendency to whittle away at Byakuya's temper with insults and innuendo.

A footstep scuffed in the corridor. Byakuya looked up, expecting to see his servant and found Ichigo instead. "What the hell?" Ichigo said, stepping into the room over several works that Byakuya now recognised as priceless, and looking around in amazement. "When Koji said you'd thrown a fit, I didn't believe him, but I guess…" concerned brown eyes turned on Byakuya, "You okay?"

"My lord?" Koji peered worriedly round the door frame behind Ichigo, looking for all the world like a child expecting to be scolded. "I'm sorry. I didn't know what else to do, and your lordship seemed very… agitated."

"Don't sweat it, Koji, you did the right thing," Ichigo answered with a dismissive wave without giving Byakuya a chance to speak for himself. "The last couple of days've got everyone turned upside down. Guess Byakuya just decided to do it literally."

Ignoring Ichigo's presumption with his name, Byakuya rose to his feet and picked his way through the devastation. "Have this delivered to the 5th immediately," he ordered, handing the letter to Koji, "and tell the messenger to wait for a reply. Return immediately."

With a bow, Koji turned to leave. Ichigo watched him for a moment, frown deepening, and then called out, "Hey, Koji, do us a favour and send someone over to grab me a clean uniform, will you? Unless," he shot a look at Byakuya, "there's not one still kicking around here, is there?"

"You are not staying, Kurosaki," Byakuya snapped, turning to go back to his desk. He didn't want Ichigo here. Right now he was nothing but a painful reminder of the one who couldn't be.

"Well, I'm not going, so if you want me out, you'll have to throw me," Ichigo replied sauntering into Byakuya's library after him, thumbs tucked into the tops of his hakama. "I'm thinking it wouldn't be a good idea for either of us to be alone this evening."

That really was enough. "Despite what you may think, I am not in such a fragile state that-" Byakuya began.

"Hey!" Ichigo interrupted, "I know you're not, okay. That's not what I'm getting at, I…" He paused, looking uncomfortable suddenly, eyes unable to meet Byakuya's. "I just… I know you think it's a load of bullshit, but I think there's more to this than we…" He stopped again, his shoulders climbing progressively higher with every second.

Byakuya watched him in silence, neither prepared nor able to help him. Finally, Ichigo sighed heavily and plopped down on the floor in a small clear space next to Byakuya's desk. "Look, my sister's the one who accused Renji of trying to kill you and I don't think she's lying." He looked up, gaze soft and concerned, "It's Yuzu, you know, she wouldn't lie about a thing like this. Plus, you didn't see her. It was killing her to say it. She likes Renji."

"And yet," Byakuya said, turning away to begin straightening some of the bookshelves. It served the useful function of keeping his back to Ichigo since he wasn't entirely sure he could keep his emotions completely controlled.

"I know, it looks bad, but I still don't think he did it. And nor do you." Another pause. Byakuya kept his hands moving; pick up a book, smooth the creased pages, close, re-shelve. "I think Aizen's messed with Yuzu somehow."

Despite expecting something of the kind, Byakuya still fumbled the book he was holding. Gripping it tightly with both hands, he closed his eyes and willed himself to calm. Cloth rustled behind him followed by the quiet tread of a foot. The slide of Ichigo's hands over his shoulders was almost the final straw. He bore it, stoic and silent, allowing words and emotions to stack behind his teeth.

Because he daredn't speak. To open his mouth would be to open the flood gates to his soul. He would end up confessing all, including his belief that Ichigo was right and that Aizen was operating within Seireitei under little to no constraint. And then what?

In this, Byakuya was under no illusions. This time there would be no holding Ichigo back, no talking him down, no reasoning with him. Ichigo would demand justice for Renji with as much fervour as Aizen craved revenge. And though it was a sentiment which Byakuya shared, Ichigo's preferred methods for achieving his ends were almost always dangerously wrong-headed.

Drumming up support amongst the more impressionable minds of the Gotei and marching on the prison would not get Renji freed this time any more than it had last. It would simply bring the wrath of Central 46 down on their own heads.

And if by some miracle they did manage to break Renji out, what then? Nowhere in Soul Society would be safe for them. Even the various Shiba hideaways scattered across west Rukongai would be no sanctuary. They would be tracked down and obliterated, because as things stood, Renji was a rightfully convicted criminal and any attempt to rescue him was treason.

The only way to truly free him was to prove him innocent, and the only way to do that was to expose Aizen. And that was not something Ichigo could do.

Resolve stiffening sinew and muscle, Byakuya said, as coolly and calmly as he could manage, "Do as you will then, I shall not stop you. This room, however, is mine."

Ichigo's hands fell away. For a brief wonderful moment Byakuya thought Ichigo might obey without arguing for once, but it wasn't to be. Not entirely. "Fine," Ichigo snapped, "You know what, maybe I should just leave you alone. You were trying to get him killed, for fuck's sake, but…" Another sigh. Byakuya could imagine the frustrated scowl and calloused fingers dragging though untidy hair.

Then, more quietly and full of suppressed emotion, "Renji wouldn't want us to fight. Not tonight. I know you're… I'm… " Finally words seem to desert Ichigo altogether. Byakuya heard a sound which could have been someone kicking something and then Ichigo said, "Fuck this. I'm taking a bath."

Still gripping the book tightly in his hands, Byakuya listened to the retreating footsteps. Only when he could no longer hear them did he trust himself to relax and start to move. The first thing he did was replace the doors in their tracks and close them. There were preparations he needed to make, and for that he needed privacy.

* * *

Ichigo hadn't been going to come. When Koji caught him as he just got back to the 6th, Ichigo had been tempted to say screw it and let Byakuya sort his own shit out. He'd wanted them to kill Renji, ergo he was on his own. It was the description of the books that got him. Byakuya loved his books. No, screw loved, worshipped them. They were like some kind of unofficial shrine to his family or something, and so hearing about them being scattered on the floor made Ichigo think that maybe he ought to at least go and check he was alright.

Plus there was the 'Aizen thing', as he was starting to refer to it in his own head. In the past few days Ichigo's life had been turned upside down and inside out and whichever way he looked, all he could see was Aizen's shadow hanging over it all. Trouble was, that was all it was; a shadow. No proof, no evidence, nothing concrete enough to make anyone take him seriously, but the fact remained that Ichigo knew it had been Aizen who'd screwed with Yuzu's head, and that being so, who was to say he wouldn't screw with anyone else's. Like Byakuya's, or Ichigo's. And sure, being around other people was no guarantee that it couldn't happen, but surely the extra set of eyes had to help, didn't it?

And so he'd sucked up Byakuya's bad behaviour and gone.

Now, waiting outside Byakuya's bedroom several hours later, he was pretty sure he'd made the right call. Sure Byakuya was being an asshole, but that was nothing new. What was new was his body language. Ichigo had never seen him so out of control. This was the guy who could hold the blade of an unsheathed zanpakutō through his orgasm and not cut himself. Tonight, in the library, he'd been shaking. Worse, Ichigo didn't think he'd even realised he was doing it. This shit had him freaked out but good.

It was all about Renji, of course. Koji had brought him up to speed on the way back. Ichigo had been ranting about Byakuya trying to get them to carry out the sentence and Koji had said, "Where was Abarai-fukutaichō sent, sir?" When he'd said, "Shugo," Koji's expression told Ichigo everything. "That bad, huh?" Ichigo had asked. Koji had looked away and all he'd said was, "I can understand why Kuchiki-sama may wish for him to die."

So yeah, shitty place, that much was clear. But still, dead was dead. And Ichigo's dad was in jail and no one was freaking out over him, so really how bad could it be?

"Why are you still here, Kurosaki?" Byakuya said as he swept past him into the bedroom.

Ichigo scrambled to his feet. He must have zoned out or something not to have felt him coming, though to be fair, there wasn't much to feel. Whatever Byakuya had been up to all evening, it seemed to have let him get on top of his feelings. Now, instead of shaking vulnerability, there was glacial calm.

"Like I said earlier, I don't think we should be alone," Ichigo said watching Byakuya roll back the covers on the bed and re-stack the pillows. It took him by surprise. Normally it was him or Renji who got the bed ready, depending on who was taking first shift. Or the servants if they were out late on division business. Seeing Byakuya do it for himself felt wrong.

Despite Ichigo's attempt at playing nice, Byakuya didn't even glance in his direction. He climbed into the bed, pulled up the covers and turned his back on Ichigo. Right, so, asshole it was. Ichigo could work with that. He'd gotten good at speaking Byakuya over the past few months, and the fact that the order to leave hadn't come with military back-up or shikai release told Ichigo that Byakuya actually wanted him to stay and just couldn't find a way of asking.

Sliding out of his yukuta, a pale grey one he'd borrowed since his clean uniform hadn't arrived yet, he slipped into bed behind Byakuya and spooned. It didn't even win him a flutter of eyelashes; they lay still, long and dark, against a smooth pale cheek. Not one to be put off so easily, Ichigo leaned down, placed a kiss against Byakuya's ear and whispered, "You're not kidding anyone, you know."

Byakuya stopped breathing. Taking that as a win, Ichigo said, "I know you're hurting, because I am, same as I know you're worried sick about him. But he'll do okay. He's Renji, he's strong. We've just got to believe in him."

For a moment Ichigo thought Byakuya might answer, might talk about it, then he sighed, tugged the covers up further and said, "Go to sleep, Kurosaki."

"For fuck's sake!" Ichigo huffed, flopping over onto his back. That was it. His stores of nice had run dry. "Do you have to be such a…" Yeah, it probably wasn't worth finishing that, not unless he wanted a real fight on his hands. And he didn't. No more than he fancied going back to headquarters. Sharing a bed with Byakuya might be as comfy as sharing with a porcupine but it was better than being alone.

"At least I was willing to give him a chance. If it'd been left up to you, Renji'd be dead by now and that'd be it. Not a hope in hell of saving him."

"You don't under-" Byakuya began.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. Shugo, third level of hell, yadda yadda." Ichigo scrubbed at his face, trying to think his way through this. "Y'know, he didn't seem to think so. Sure he was pissed about Zabimaru and I get that, but the rest… Fuck it, Byakuya, he wasn't even asking you to do it!"

And that was what really stuck in his craw. If Renji had been begging them to kill him, then maybe Ichigo could have got why Byakuya was so damned insistent, but he hadn't. After his first reaction he'd kind of shut up, except for when Zabimaru was sealed.

A shudder ran up Ichigo's spine at the thought of having Zangetsu locked away from him like that, but he'd survive it. It'd be horrible but it wouldn't kill him. And it wouldn't kill Renji. Nor would Shugo. He'd survive somehow and they'd get him out.

Byakuya had gone back to ignoring him again. Ichigo rolled onto his side, propped himself up on an elbow and stared down at him. Fucking annoying shitty bastard. Why did Renji care so much about him?

Some of it had to be habit. Or, Stockholm syndrome, was it called? Something about thinking you loved someone because they were nice to you sometimes. He couldn't remember the exact details, but that sounded about right, and it fit Renji and Byakuya to a tee. But he didn't think it was just that, because even he'd seen glimpses of the man Byakuya was under all the bullshit. He could be generous and kind and, somewhere in there, he even had a sense of humour of you dug hard enough. It was just buried under all those layers of bullshit nobility stuff. Without that he might actually be a halfway decent guy.

A halfway decent guy who would fight to get Renji out of prison, so long as they did it his way. Which would probably be ten times more complicated than it needed to be and take twice as long. But, Ichigo acknowledged grudgingly, unlike his own plans, would probably work.

A lock of hair had fallen forwards across Byakuya's face. Ichigo tucked it back behind his ear and said, "What are we gonna do then?"

"I was rather hoping to sleep," Byakuya replied, without heat.

Ichigo felt hope stir, just a little. He'd thought that Byakuya had just shoved his emotions down deeper but maybe there was another reason for him looking better. "You've got an idea, haven't you?" he said. "A way of getting him out." He couldn't stop excitement bleeding into his voice. He was right, he knew he was.

Eyelashes fluttered almost imperceptibly.

"Tell me!" Ichigo demanded, yanking on Byakuya's shoulder and rolling him onto his back. "Tell me so I can start training. Do I need bankai? Zangetsu says I'm nearly ready. We can do it, if you need us-"

"Ichigo." It wasn't shouted. It wasn't even said loudly, but it silenced Ichigo like a parade ground bellow. "Achieving bankai is an admirable aim, and one you should work hard to reach, however there is nothing specific for you to train for."

"What?" Ichigo frowned, confused. That made no sense. Unless- "You're doing it alone." It had to be that. He'd come up with some crack-pot scheme and- "Was that what that note was about that you sent Koji off with?" Which meant that- "You're planning something for tonight."

He might as well have been speaking to a wall. Byakuya rolled onto his side again, saying in that same flat tone, "I repeat, there is nothin-"

"You know something," Ichigo snapped, throwing back the covers and swinging his legs out of the bed. "Screw you. I came here to tell you that you weren't alone. You're not the only one Renji has on his side. The guys from earlier, the lieutenants, Ganju, Hanatarō. Hirako doesn't think he did it either, nor does Ukitake and okay, so he's nuts, but it still counts. You don't have to do this alone!" And there went his resolution not to turn this into a fight.

Sure enough, that got him a reaction. "Hirako?" Byakuya mocked, sitting up and glaring at Ichigo. "You dare to call him ally? The man who controls the only surety in this situation and instead of using it for the general good, clutches it to his chest like the coward he is. If he had one brave bone in his body, he'd stop hiding behind his lieutenant and confront Aizen himself!"

"Holy shit!" Ichigo gaped, hopped round onto his knees, heart pounding at the implication of what Byakuya had said. "It is Aizen! I fucking knew the bastard was behind all this and every time I tried to say anything, you guys just-" Until this afternoon. Until that strangeness that Ichigo had thought even at the time was something to do with Aizen. Euphoria gave away to horror. "What'd he do?" he demanded. "Did he threaten to kill Renji? Is that what all this is about?"

Byakuya shook his head, his annoyed expression fading back to impassivity again as he lay back down. "As I say, you do not understand," he said. "Now sleep or leave. I have no care for which."

"Well, I'm not leaving," Ichigo grumped, getting back into bed and thumping back on the pillows, arms folded behind his head. "If I go, you might sneak off without me." And Renji'd never forgive him if he let Byakuya get killed on his watch. Not to mention Ichigo'd never forgive himself. Sure there were issues between them, but he didn't want Byakuya dead, not really, however much the ass deserved it at times.

"As you say," Byakuya replied, and sneaky shit was still up to something.

Ichigo rolled over again and peered down at him. "You know if you kidō me, I'll just absorb it," he said. "Same if you try and bakudō me to the bed. In fact…" Now there was a thought. He bent lower, until his lips were against Byakuya's neck and said, "Maybe I ought to tie you to the bed first." And damn it, before the other night he'd never have dreamed of saying something like that to Byakuya. His cheeks felt like they were on fire saying it now.

"I assure you, Ichigo," Byakuya rumbled back at him, voice as much physical sensation against Ichigo's chest as it was sound. "If I see you reach for the rope, you will find yourself with more than a simple kidō to deal with."

That told him. Still, the basic idea was sound. Not the tying up, but the sex. If Byakuya'd got as little sleep as Ichigo had in the past few days, he'd go out like a light afterwards. Ichigo snuggled closer and slipped a hand inside Byakuya's yukata just above the obi. Muscles fluttered beneath his fingertips as he skimmed across soft skin and he felt Byakuya inhale deeply. He half expected to be stopped, but instead Byakuya wriggled back until his ass was pressed firmly against Ichigo's crotch. The softness of the cotton seemed to curl around him like a gentle hand and Ichigo felt himself harden at the touch.

Sweat crept up his back and he nosed aside the heavy fall of Byakuya's hair to press kisses to the back of his neck. "This is gonna be good," he said, "better than fighting. Y'know Renji wouldn't want us fighting." And fuck why did that sound like he was talking about Renji like he was already dead.

Pushing the thought deliberately away, he tugged at the knot on Byakuya's obi and pulled the cloth loose, wrapping it round his hand. The other end, he looped around Byakuya's wrist and tied off.

"Ichigo?" Both warning and enquiry.

"Let's call it mutual assurance," Ichigo said, bringing his own wrist up to tighten the knot around it with his teeth. Right wrist to left wrist, they were now attached. "This way, no one can use it to tie anyone else to the bed."

"Because we're tied to each other other." Byakuya lifted his hand, frowning at the deep purple obi that bound them together.

Something like that. It was true he was more than a bit worried that Byakuya would tie him to the bed and leave without him. The obi would break more easily than rope but this had a nice symmetry to it. Symbolic or something.

Plus, with the obi gone, he had free access to Byakuya. The yukata fell open leaving Ichigo to explore, which he did with much enthusiasm. From inner thigh to chin, he dragged fingertips and then nails, alternating gentleness with pressure, keeping up the kisses and soft bites to vulnerable neck and shoulders that made Byakuya hitch and squirm. When he finally closed a hand around Byakuya's cock, it was firm and solid, a bar of heat against his palm.

Thumb first. Using the tip to roll the foreskin clear, he rubbed gently at the underside of the head. Byakuya gasped and his fingers grabbed the obi, stopping Ichigo's movements. For a second Ichigo thought that was it, he was going to call a halt, but a second later he let go, sliding his hand up Ichigo's forearm and then back around his waist to press against his ass.

At the touch, Ichigo rolled his hips. This time, the cotton of the yukata tangled around him and he let out an unmanly yelp as, for a second, it felt like his dick was in danger of being ripped off.

Before he could get free, Byakuya tutted and began tugging on it. "Wait," Ichigo squeaked, "Just let me… Oh fuck, that's better." Now the yukata slipped up Byakuya's back and rather than cotton, Ichigo found skin.

"Try this," Byakuya said, and something cold and solid was pressed into Ichigo's hand. He frowned and then realised it was Renji's little pot of lube. Had Byakuya had it out ready? Did it matter? He took it and unscrewed the lid. The air filled with the sweet scent of sandalwood and in the an odd way it made Ichigo feel like Renji was in the bed with them.

Yeah, there was yet another thought that needed burying down deep.

A little bit of slick made everything that much easier. Finished with the pot, Ichigo tossed it to one side and got back to business. Now his dick slid into the crack of Byakuya's ass smoother than silk. He pressed his lips to Byakuya's neck and ran his fingers up soft inner thigh. Byakuya sighed, took his hand and pointedly replaced where it had been before the 'yukata incident'.

Obediently, Ichigo continued where he'd left off, thumbing back foreskin and sweeping the tips of his fingers back and forth.

"Ichigo," Byakuya began, and Ichigo just knew he was going to be snotty.

"For fuck's sake," he growled, working his other hand into a position to use it, "just shut up and stop back seat driving." As he said the last, he tugged firmly on Byakuya's balls and slid a hand tightly up his dick from base to tip. The slightest rotation of the wrist and flick of the thumb at the end and Byakuya gasped and arched in his arms, already starting to chasing his movements with thrust after thrust.

Ichigo buried his smirk in Byakuya's shoulder, worried at a piece of skin between his teeth and settled into a rhythm that he knew worked. Byakuya's arms lifted, coming back to grab at Ichigo's hair, tugging hard as his hips rolled, pushing his cock through Ichigo's working hands. Ichigo gasped. As a bonus, this was going to take him along too. Calloused palms slid, hot skin seemed to melt together, alternatively catching and sliding until sweat slickened it to an easy glide.

It was beginning to feel too good. Determined to make Byakuya come first, Ichigo pulled his hair free of one clutching hand and mouthed at Byakuya's fingers. They curled into his mouth and he began to suck, finding comfort in the illusion of another being with them.

"Ichi-go," panted in uneven gasps as tongue slid between fingers to tease at the webbing, to rub and stroke in ways that mimicked the movements of his hands. One hard suck and the sudden arching thrust of Byakuya's body came as no real surprise, nor did the wet spill over his fingers.

To be suddenly rolled onto his back and straddled was more perplexing. Byakuya stared down at him, burning eyes unflinching as he sank slowly down on Ichigo's cock. Ichigo froze, unable to even catch his breath. It felt like he was being eaten alive from both ends. His heart pounded in his chest and he couldn't stop the moan that crept like a living thing from his throat. He reached for Byakuya, only to have his hand intercepted and brought, incrementally, purposefully, towards open wet lips. Pink tongue flashed out and Ichigo choked back a gasp. Byakuya was licking his own come off Ichigo's fingers.

"That is so fucking hot," Ichigo panted, watching avidly as every millimetre of skin was scrupulously cleaned. Seeing that busy tongue at work made him ache for the touch of it on other parts of his body and when Byakuya sucked his fingers in completely, swallowing them down as he had Ichigo's cock so many times, Ichigo thrust up into him with a desperate hungry groan of, "Fuck, please, move."

The pace was slow enough to make him want to scream, but fast enough to stop him from trying to take over. Byakuya rode him languidly, one hand on his chest for balance, the other playing with his own dick. Now his gaze was elsewhere, though Ichigo was too far gone to care.

Bringing his knees up, Ichigo chased the rhythm, grunting with effort as his body fought to go faster, harder, wanting nothing more now than to come. One hand dug into the bedding, the other clutched at Byakuya's thigh, thumb pressing hard enough to bruise. It had to happen eventually and when it did, it was like catching fire from the inside. Pure arousal rolled up from Ichigo's toes and began to coalesce at the base of his spine. Ichigo cursed, panting open-mouthed and unseeing, his hand snatching at Byakuya's hip. Heat had him, tight and unending and he fucked into it, hips driving hard as his brain whited out, physical sensation overloading everything else as he came hard for moment after endless moment.

He never felt the fingertip Byakuya pressed to his forehead, nor heard the whispered word, "Sleep."

* * *

The kidō was just insurance. Ichigo always went out like a light after coming, which was why Byakuya hadn't stopped him when he'd started making approaches. Well, that and he hadn't had the heart to say no. It was as good a way as any of saying goodbye.

Leaning down, he pressed a gentle kiss to lax lips. A promise, albeit silent, to send Renji back to Ichigo if he possibly could. Then he patted the sleeping boy's cheek softly and when all Ichigo did was snore, he quickly undid the obi, rose from the bed and headed for the door, adjusting his yukata as he went.

A scarlet-faced Koji was waiting outside in the corridor with several letters in his hand. Ignoring the servant's blush, Byakuya took the letters, unfolded the top one and skimmed the contents.

It was exactly as he had expected. Tōsen Kaname had not been on the hill during Renji's sealing, which no doubt explained why Aizen had felt confident enough to attempt his tricks. He would live to regret that decision. "Do you have the shinten?" he asked.

"I do, my lord," Koji replied fumbling in his robe. "I'm sorry about before. I didn't realise that you and young master Shiba were… and you did say the letter was…" His words faded away as he held out the small green bottle.

Byakuya ignored the apology and said, "Thank you. And the rest?"

"Secure, my lord."

"The staff?"

"Asleep, my lord."

"Excellent." Byakuya unscrewed the top of the bottle, "If the worst happens, look after him, Koji. He'll need someone to watch his back."

"I will, my lord and-" Koji hesitated, chinning bobbing. His eyes looked suspiciously large and wet, "good luck, sir."

"Thank you, Koji." A single flick of the dropper and Koji sank into unconsciousness. Byakuya caught him as he fell, ensuring his landing was passably comfortable but still awkward enough to convince anyone who found him that it was natural.

Ichigo's dose of the drug had to be much larger. Ironically the obi proved the most useful form of application. Byakuya soaked the inner portion of it where it lay against the thin skin of Ichigo's wrist. The drug should absorb slowly over several hours and, combined with the kidō and his general level of exhaustion, should keep him from waking until late morning at the earliest. By then it would all be over, one way or another.

He washed quickly, dressed in a plain shihakushō and caught his hair back in a loose tail at the nape of his neck. Without the kenseikan it fell in loose strands in front of his face, making him look like a younger, less experienced, stranger. With an asauchi taken from the Kuchiki armoury stuck through his obi and a cloak over the top, he should pass as an ordinary shinigami, one tasked with delivering a message to Aizen-fukutaichō of the 1st division.

Satisfied with his appearance, Byakuya turned to his next tasks. The kenseikan had already been packed away. Byakuya slid the letter to his aunt beneath the lacquered case on the dresser. The note was short and to the point, saying his goodbyes and informing her that his notice of abdication had been sent to the appropriate officials. All that remained was for her to accept it on behalf of the clan. He'd also suggested one of his second cousins, who would make passable replacement, though of course she was under no obligation to listen to him now he was no longer a Kuchiki. With no designated heir, the elders would appoint whoever they saw fit.

The captaincy was different matter. That was his and his alone to dispose of. Taking his haori from the top of the tansu, Byakuya laid it on the pillow next to Ichigo. With luck the boy wouldn't drool on it in his sleep and would grasp its import when he awoke to news of Byakuya's crimes. If he did not, the letter Byakuya placed atop it formally handing over command of the 6th would suffice to inform him of his promotion.

Other missives, to Kyōraku, Yoruichi and finally one to Ichimaru, asked for Ichigo to be given their support until he was strong enough to hold the division alone would be delivered tomorrow. It was all Byakuya could do. In the unlikely event that he survived this night, he would no doubt be spending the next thousand years or so in prison. Neither clan nor division would have much use for him in there.

Finally, once everything else was done, he took up Senbonzakura and headed for the library.

The desk had already been moved. Byakuya dragged aside a tatami to reveal wooden planks which looked identical to every other part of the floor in the captain's quarters. For this spot, however, that was an illusion. Hunkering down, he pressed a finger to the floor and released a small burst of reiatsu. The kidō shimmered and faded, revealing a trap door with two small finger holes to allow it to be raised. Below that, once it was lifted, lay stone. This was going to be more complicated.

Reiatsu chains slithered from Byakuya's hands, insinuating themselves between the slabs, then, with a grunt of effort, he began to lift. The nature of sekkiseki meant that exerting reiatsu pressure on the stone itself was impossible. The stuff simply absorbed the energy. Thus he had to lift just the chains and bring the slab along with them. It was heavy physical work. Sweat beaded brow and upper lip by the time he had the sekkiseki clear of its resting place and it was a good minute before he was ready to carry on.

The barrier beneath was elegant in its simplicity. Based on some of the techniques used in the creation of negators, it combined the reiryoku absorbing properties of the sekkiseki with a twisted loop of kidō energy to create a stable zone within which time passed but energy did not degrade. Byakuya had no idea if it was something the kidō corps could create. Probably. But many of their techniques remained secret from the Gotei, who fell back on developing their own through sheer necessity. Kidō had always been one of Byakuya's strengths.

Whatever the case, known technique or not, the barrier had served its function here. Since it, like the illusion of the wooden floor, was keyed to his reiatsu, a simple pulse of power was enough to make the barrier crumble away to nothing. And there within lay the only weapon in Seireitei capable of defeating Aizen Sousuke.

Kuchiki Kouga's zanpakutō, Muramasa.

Acknowledgement skittered between them as Byakuya's fingers closed around the hilt. Not of master and wielder as it was with his own Senbonzakura, but of co-conspirators.

_It is time?_ a voice echoed in his head.

_It is,_ Byakuya replied, lifting both sword and sheath from their stand and sliding them through his obi beside Senbonzakura. His own zanpakutō shifted uneasily in his soul but now was not the time to get cold feet.

The night had grown overcast, full of dark shadows and perfect for someone bent on treason. Rapid flits of shunpo took Byakuya quickly across the now sleeping Seireitei towards his goal. The Senzaikyū loomed above him and it took an effort of will to turn his back on it and the underground prison, and focus on the 1st. That was where Renji's best hope of salvation lay, with Aizen's exposure and Renji's innocence proved.

The gate to the 1st division was closed tight, as Byakuya expected given the hour. It was well past midnight and no one, except the most dedicated gamblers and drinkers, would be expected to be out at this hour.

Tucking his cloak over Senbonzakura and Muramasa, Byakuya flipped back the other side to expose the asauchi and knocked firmly on the imposing outer gates. The sound seemed dead and weak against the silence around them. A moment past. Two.

Byakuya was about to knock again when a little window in the gate slammed open and voice said, "Yes?"

His imitation of Renji was terrible but it was the best he had to offer. "I got a message to deliver," he growled, "Fer Aizen-fukutaichō."

Apparently it wasn't bad enough to raise suspicions. "Okay, hang on a minute," the voice said, and the little window slammed closed again.

Standing, waiting for the great gates to open, Byakuya found his gaze straying back to the Senzaikyū.

One of the letters he'd written this evening was a contract on the life of one Abarai Renji, prisoner in Shugo. The money offered for the job was substantial, enough to ensure it was done quickly and cleanly. If Byakuya failed to return tonight, that letter would find its way into the right hands. Renji would not be left to suffer indefinitely. It was the least Byakuya owed him.

Finally the wicket gate cracked open and Byakuya slipped inside. Three shinigami, all with drawn zanpakutō, awaited him in a small, well-lit area. Byakuya tried to do a decent impression of someone who had nothing to hide. Resting his hand on the hilt of the asauchi, he dipped a small bow. "Message fer Aizen-fukutaichō," he repeated.

"From?" the tallest of the three asked. He was standing next to a box on the wall that had a handle on it.

This was a calculated risk. "Kuchiki-taichō," he said. Would mentioning his own name make them recognise him? He'd thought about using another division, the 8th perhaps, and then decided the risks of being caught wrong-footed were worse than inadvertently identifying himself.

The tall shinigami didn't bat an eyelid. "6th, huh. Okay, give us a minute." And then he unhooked a tube from the box, grabbed the handle and began to turn it vigorously. Byakuya watched him in utter confusion.

"Going by that look, I'm guessing they don't have speaking tubes at the 6th," one of the other shinigami, a short balding man, stage-whispered to the shinigami beside him, who grinned smugly and gave Byakuya a disparaging look. Byakuya ignored it. To react would be both dangerous and beneath him.

In any case, he was far more interested in the box the first shinigami was using. "Sir," the man said into the tube. "There's a messenger here from the 6th. He says it's for Aizen-fukutaichō."

A tinny noise that sounded almost like a voice came from the box. The tall shinigami certainly reacted as though he were having a conversation. "Yuhuh… yuhuh. Okay, hang on a second." He put a hand over the tube and said to Byakuya. "Written or spoken message?"

"Spoke-" Totally thrown by the gadget, Byakuya almost forgot to fake his accent. He coughed to cover the error. "Hghm, spoken. Ears only. Kuchiki said I 'ad to see the lieutenant meself." And if they wouldn't let him up, then he would use Muramasa to clear the way, right up to Aizen's door if necessary.

The tall shinigami turned back to the speaking tube. "Spoken, sir. Ears only." Narrowing eyes fixed on Byakuya appraisingly. "Yeah, that's right… Yeah, that too… Sure? Okay. I'll tell him."

The guard replaced the tube onto the side of the box, saying, "You're out of luck. Aizen-fukutaichō was summoned by Central 46 about an hour ago."

Central? At this time of night? Byakuya immediately suspected a trap. It was too convenient. And he already knew that Aizen was controlling at least one of the Judges, who was to say he didn't have more.

On the other hand, even if it was a trap, Aizen would still find himself out manoeuvred. Byakuya had Muramasa. Even if Aizen turned all of Central 46 and its guards on him, Byakuya would still win. Or at least distract them long enough to carry out his original plan.

"You could wait for him here if you wanted," the tall shinigami offered. He gestured to the small stove just visible through a door into a cosy looking room. "We were just making tea."

"No, I erm… better go tell me captain," Byakuya husked.

"Rather you than me, mate," the short, balding one said, as he unbolted the gate and saw Byakuya out. "I've heard he's a real prissy princess."

As the gate slammed, Byakuya heard laughter from inside. That comment should have earned the soldier disapproval not the compliant amusement of his friends. If Byakuya had heard of one of his own men saying such a thing about the sōtaichō, or any other captain for that matter, he'd have stopped their pay for six months. Respect for rank within the Gotei should not be selective. A captain was a captain, to disrespect one was to disrespect all, including one's own.

Since when had the sōtaichō's men lost all respect for their captain?

Pondering the worrying new development, Byakuya made his way quickly towards Central 46. Again he was glad he had opted to wait until after midnight before leaving. It hadn't been an easy decision, since every moment that passed was another that Renji was in enemy hands, but the lack of traffic on the streets at this hour made it possible to identify and thus avoid incoming patrols.

When he arrived, he found the outer gate to the Central 46 compound open and unguarded. Byakuya passed through it carefully, watchful for Aizen or anyone else he may have compelled into helping him. The inner gate too was unguarded and the seals broken. The scent of a trap was getting stronger. It was time to draw Muramasa.

As Byakuya did so, the zanpakutō's spirit shimmered into being beside him, strange and gaunt and dark-eyed as it always was.

"You have found him?" Muramasa asked, eyeing the steep stairway to the assembly hall greedily. "Is he down there?"

"No," Byakuya replied. "The situation is not so straightforward. Let me explain." This was where things became complicated. If Aizen was telling the truth and Isshin had actually killed Kōga, then revealing Aizen would not achieve the revenge for his master that Muramasa was seeking. Byakuya was relying on the zanpakutō believing him when he said that Aizen was lying.

"I do not remember it being an illusion," Muramasa said with a frown when Byakuya finished speaking. "We were fighting Engetsu and her wielder. There were no others."

"Unlike your own illusions, Aizen's 'complete hypnosis' works on zanpakutō as well as shinigami," Byakuya explained again. "If he wished to remain unseen, you would not have known he was there."

"I see." The frown hadn't gone. Dark-circled eyes stared down the steep stairwell again before returning to Byakuya. "I will believe you, for now. However you promised me revenge, Kuchiki Byakuya. Tonight you will fulfil your oath or you will die, by the hand of your own zanpakutō."

Though it galled him to be spoken to in such an arrogant way, he couldn't do this without Muramasa's co-operation. Byakuya swallowed down the insult, to himself and Senbonzakura, and replied, "I give my word."

It garnered him a nod of acceptance which was all he could hope for under the circumstances. His agreement with Muramasa, forged amongst the Kuchiki dead that night so long ago, when Byakuya's hand had fallen on Muramasa's hilt instead of Senbonzakura's, had been between a boy suddenly bereft of his family and a zanpakutō bent on revenge against the murderer of its master. Byakuya may have changed since then, but the relationship between he and Muramasa hadn't, and there was no time now for him to forge a different one.

They descended the steps together. The sound of their feet echoed around the vast underground chamber and still none came to challenge them. Nerves fluttered in Byakuya's gut. He had to be ready. Whatever horror was waiting for him, it had to be faced, coolly and without emotion. Aizen would be relying on that moment of distraction in which to make his attack, thus Byakuya must not give it to him.

The door to the assembly hall was closed. Byakuya placed a hand against it and it swung soundlessly inward.

The first sight to greet him was the bodies, slumped on the floor all along the entrance way like broken dolls. Going by the numbers, this had to be all of Central 46's guards, from inside and out. Someone had collected them and brought them all here. Why?

He stepped further in, picking his way through splayed limbs and discarded weapons. The double ranks of seating were in darkness, though all were occupied, and that was when it struck him. The silence.

For a room that was entirely full, the only sound was the quiet, regular one of fifty people breathing. Not a cough nor a shift of foot or cloth came from any of the gathered members.

Gesturing for Muramasa to stay in the shadows, Byakuya made his way carefully towards the only well-lit spot in the room; the centre space where witnesses would stand to give testimony, or criminals to have sentence passed. There was little point in being coy. This was a trap, but springing it by stepping into it would make no difference to the outcome.

As he stepped out into the light, a familiar voice cried, "Finally! I thought you were never going to arrive."

"Aizen," Byakuya replied, squinting up into the darkened upper reaches of the hall. "I assume all this is your doing?"

"This?" Aizen replied emerging from the gloom and treading slowly down the steps between the benches. He paused by one of the Judges, the same pompous little upstart who'd handed down sentence on Renji. "You mean all my obedient little puppets," Aizen said, shaking the man by the shoulder. The Judge's tall hat began sliding slowly down over his ear, yet he was apparently oblivious to everything. Aizen had to be using his complete hypnosis on them, it was the only explanation. "They've worked so hard for me, but now they've outlived their usefulness," Aizen continued, "I considered killing them, but decided, no, I'd wait for you to arrive first."

"Why? It won't gain you anything," Byakuya replied flatly. "After the sentence they passed on Renji, I was tempted to come here and kill them myself."

Aizen gaped in mock amazement, pressing his palm to his chest. "The noble Kuchiki Byakuya, prepared to go against Central 46, all for the sake of his crimson-haired gaki lover. I am shocked.

"And yet not surprised." The last came out far more calmly. Eyes narrowing, Aizen came down the final few steps and now faced Byakuya across the central area. "Which, I believe, will be the reaction of every other shinigami in Seireitei when your slaughter of Central 46 is discovered."

So that was the plan. "_My_ slaughter?" Byakuya replied, hard-pressed to keep the relief out of his voice. If this was the limit to Aizen's plotting, it would be easily frustrated. "I fear you'll find it difficult to persuade people that I was responsible for killing them. Senbonzakura's signature is very distinct."

"It is, which is part of the beauty of this plan. But I'm forgetting, of course, you've yet to see my bankai."

"Bankai?" Byakuya said before he could stop himself. He hadn't thought Aizen spent enough time with his zanpakutō to develop such a technique.

"You shouldn't be surprised," Aizen replied, hand reaching for the sword at his side, putting Byakuya immediately on alert. "You must already have realised that my influence is far larger and more comprehensive than even you imagined." He smiled. "And is about to become larger again. In shikai, my zanpakutō can manipulate the minds of any who see it. In bankai, it can imitate the abilities of any it has seen. And thanks to your wonderful performance at the challenges, Kuchiki-taichō, I know exactly how to imitate all your techniques."

As Aizen drew, Byakuya unleashed Muramasa. The spirit materialised suddenly front of him, palm outstretched, unleashing a wave of purple reiatsu that crashed towards Aizen.

"Danku!" Aizen yelled, throwing his palm up as he cast. The barrier sprung up between them, but reiatsu poured around it, splitting into four distinct currents. They converged on Aizen, who retreated, face a mask of utter horror and betrayal.

He was not permitted to get far. Before he reached the first step, power shimmered around his body and a shape began to form beside him. Tall, slender and hooded, Byakuya recognised it immediately, despite never have seen it with his own eyes. Kyōka Suigetsu.

With a cry, Aizen stumbled, falling to his knees. "No, not this. Not again, please," he begged, crawling and abject as the manifesting spirit of his zanpakutō walked slowly away from him.

Byakuya watched, unmoved by the performance. Compared to the hell Aizen had put Renji through earlier, this was nothing. The pleas fell deservedly on uncaring ears. "Lay down your sword, Aizen Sousuke," he ordered. "Confess to your crimes or your zanpakutō will confess for you."

As he finished speaking, the figure of Kyōka Suigetsu stopped and turned towards him. "I shall confess nothing," it said, voice bell-clear. "Why should I do such a thing?"

Byakuya hesitated, glancing towards Muramasa. The zanpakutō spirit had frozen in place, head cocked slightly to one side as though listening. "Muramasa," Byakuya said, feeling the pulse rise in his throat. "If we are to gain revenge for your master's death, Kyōka Suigetsu must be brought to heel!" If it wasn't, then Aizen would have the chance to catch Byakuya in his complete hypnosis and then there would be no chance of victory.

"Why would I want revenge for my master, when my master is right here?" Muramasa said, long-taloned hand gesturing towards Aizen - who was back up on his feet and smiling at Muramasa, all traces of the cowering creature from before gone.

"Your… master?" It wasn't possible. It couldn't be.

"Welcome home, Muramasa," Aizen said, walking to towards the zanpakutō spirit with his hand extended.

Muramasa took it, dropped to one knee, and kissed the back of Aizen's hand. "My master," it murmured, "Kōga."

"No!" The denial was driven from him by sheer desperation. "Muramasa, your master is dead. Kōga is dead. He was consumed by Engetsu's fire! You must remember!" How could he not remember when Byakuya couldn't forget.

"It was all an illusion," Muramasa said, rising to its feet and turning slowly towards him. "You told me that, Kuchiki Byakuya."

He'd completely lost control of the zanpakutō. But how? Surely Aizen's complete hypnosis would not work so quickly, so entirely? He had not even drawn his sword.

"You lied to him?" An indulgent smile quirked Aizen's lips, the sort one might aim at a child seen doing something foolish. "That was a mistake, Kuchiki-taichō. Though it almost certainly did no more than make my task easier." He stepped forward, proprietorial hand coming to rest on Muramasa's shoulder. "Muramasa and I were, after all, already acquainted."

"That isn't possible. My uncle-"

"Your uncle was as arrogant as you," Aizen interrupted. "When he tore Kyōka Suigetsu from my soul and forced it to turn against me, he assumed he had escaped my complete hypnosis. He was partially right." The hand came up and grasped Muramasa's hair, turning its head forcibly so that Byakuya could see its face, the unfocused eyes and blissful expression. It was entirely under Aizen's command. "In my inexperience and terror I was only able to briefly touch his soul, but it was long enough to plant the seeds of doubt and fear within it. Enough to know his zanpakutō wasn't gone when Isshin stole my revenge. And to know that, given a second chance, Muramasa would be mine."

Now it became obvious. Gaining Muramasa had been Aizen's plan all along. Not some petty revenge against a man already dead. "So this was simply about possessing another strong zanpakutō?"

"There was nothing simple about it. My complete hypnosis, though powerful, does have its limits. Those blessed with high enough spiritual pressure and the quickest minds can see the flaws in my illusions. And of course, any who haven't seen my shikai are beyond my control entirely."

"Tōsen Kaname."

Aizen dipped his chin. "As you say. But with Muramasa at my side, there are none in the Gotei who can stand against me."

So merely possessing the zanpakutō hadn't been the totality of his plan. "While you do what?" Byakuya demanded. "You have Seireitei under your thumb, all of the Gotei to bend to your whim, what else could you… " Aizen's smile told him everything. "No!" He would not dare aim higher.

"I see you have finally realised." Releasing Muramasa, Aizen trod towards Byakuya. "It is time for the endless cycle to start again. You know how this works, Kuchiki. All reigns must end and a new King will rise from the ashes of the old."

Frozen in place, Byakuya struggled to come to terms with what he was hearing: Aizen sought to take the throne. This half-breed mongrel aspired to replace the Soul King! It was as vile a thought as it should be impossible. And yet, Byakuya knew the throne was there for the taking, for one who was powerful enough. In the past that had always meant one of those from the Royal Guard. Today that had changed.

"And I owe it all to you, Kuchiki Byakuya. Without you delivering your uncle's zanpakutō into my waiting hands, I could have gone no further." A soft laugh, "Though I did wonder just how much torture I would have to heap on your boy before you finally crossed the line."

Byakuya looked up into cold brown eyes and opened his mouth to speak, only to discover that he had no words. What words could there be? It had been a trap, all of it, and Byakuya had arrogantly walked straight into it, so sure that he had the upper hand.

All of Renji's suffering, from the first lick of the whip, and perhaps before, had been designed to force Byakuya to use Muramasa. And now that he had, Byakuya's one chance to bring Aizen down, his only chance to free Renji and clear his name, was gone. Aizen had stolen it.

Rage swelled in Byakuya's heart. A single step of shunpo took him to the opposite side of the room. Gathering his reiatsu, he drew Senbonzakura, thrusting the blade out in front of him. "Bankai -" But before he could release, Muramasa was upon him, a pulse of reiatsu flooding from the zanpakutō spirit and immediately Byakuya felt the corresponding tug on his soul.

Instinctively his defences went up. He knew this, had practised it a thousand times with his father. His only protection against his uncle's strange mad moods. The ones caused by Aizen's touch perhaps?

The barrier closed around his heart, burying every feeling beneath it. Rage, pain, terror all vanished beneath remorseless cold. He became a living statue, unfeeling, untouchable. The perfect Kuchiki answer to the siren song of Muramasa's power. No matter what was tried now, Senbonzakura was safe. Muramasa would not have it.

With shikai and bankai denied him by the barrier, Byakuya fell back on simple zanjutsu. He side-stepped Muramasa and lunged at Aizen with the sealed Senbonzakura, only to find his blade blocked by Kyōka Suigetsu. The creature swirled, its robes flying out around it, spattering water that formed pools that turned to mirrors. And from every one, Byakuya saw Renji's face looking back. A hundred images of the man he loved and had condemned to hell.

Guilt would have been so easy. It plucked at him, gnawing at his soul with demon's teeth. With effort, Byakuya moved beyond it, deliberately and coldly bringing his heel down on one of the mirrors, and attacking again. This time it was Muramasa who stepped between him and his goal.

Byakuya smiled, pointed his finger at the zanpakutō's head and incanted, "Byakurai."

Lightening shot from his hand. Muramasa leapt away, too fast to be caught by such a simple kidō, as from the flank, Kyōka Suigetsu rejoined the fray, lunging in with blade whirling. Byakuya fell back, parrying calmly. He refused to be driven from this place, but taking the higher ground would be useful, if only to deny the advantage to his adversaries.

Rather than follow him up the steps, the two zanpakutō stopped, looking back at Aizen as though for direction.

He walked forward to stand between them. "Are you really going to insist on being awkward, Kuchiki-taichō?" he said, gesturing to Muramasa. "You can see that he's mine, why resist the inevitable?"

"Why waste time on a fight you cannot hope to win?" Byakuya replied. "You have what you came for. Why not use your complete hypnosis, slit my throat and leave?"

"Because I have a slaughter to arrange, and a Kuchiki to frame for the crime. Or had you forgotten?"

He still wanted to frame Byakuya? "Why?"

Exasperation filled Aizen's expression. "Because there is more to taking the throne than mere force. Despite everything, the noble houses are still regarded with respect and, given the right set of circumstances, it is not unthinkable that they could rally the rest behind them and stand against me. I have no desire to destroy Soul Society, Kuchiki Byakuya. A king with a throne and no subjects is no king at all. If I have to destroy everything to win then I will have lost!"

And by framing Byakuya for the slaughter of Central 46, he would cast enough doubt on the Kuchiki name to render the clan politically impotent for a generation, if not destroy it entirely. It was fiendishly convoluted, Byakuya conceded that much. But it didn't explain why he was still trying to steal Senbonzakura. "If you wish to blame me so desperately, use your bankai for this crime, or had you forgotten?" he shot back.

Aizen stared at him for a second and then laughed, "My bankai? Ah, yes, one of these days, I must get around to achieving that, I suppose. Until then, my natural intelligence will have to suffice."

Natural intelligence. He'd been bluffing? For a second Byakuya's control almost slipped. The tug came on his soul again and he felt Senbonzakura stir. A moment later he'd recovered, the barrier was solid and his emotions closed down once more. But the attempt had served as a timely reminder. He must be careful. Aizen was skilled in getting under people's skins. He was also clever, and would not be easy to defeat, but Byakuya was not about to give up now. For some reason Aizen was yet to use his complete hypnosis which suggested that maybe he couldn't, and that had to be where the potential for victory lay.

Byakuya's gaze flicked momentarily to the 46 members and Judges of the Central chamber all trapped by Aizen's ability. Perhaps that was why. There were twice as many people here than had been present on the Sōkyoku Hill. Was there an upper limit to the numbers Aizen could control? Or was that another bluff and Aizen was simply playing with him. It was so difficult to know. The only thing he could be sure of was that Aizen had not used his ability yet. If he had, Byakuya would already be kneeling at his feet.

Aizen sighed. "I see you're determined to be difficult," he said, turning his back on Byakuya and adding, as he strode back across the open space, "Just remember that you brought this on yourself." When he reached the far side, he leaned into the darkness and dragged someone to their feet.

Renji! Even hidden by shadows, Byakuya would know him anywhere.

Heart thundering in his chest, Byakuya fought to keep control as Aizen shoved Renji hard in the back and sent him sprawling face down across the floor. Every instinct told Byakuya to catch him, to halt his precipitous plunge, but he held his ground, determined not be lured off guard for a second time. He couldn't lose Senbonzakura, couldn't give Aizen the ammunition to-

They had cut his hair.

Byakuya stared in disbelief at the beloved figure struggling to rise at his feet. Whatever they had used had not been kind. It had butchered Renji's scalp as well as his hair, leaving raw places between the few remaining uneven tufts of crimson. The long braid was entirely gone, hacked away, rough and ragged, exposing shoulders now a twisted mess of scars and blood and seeping wounds.

At the sight of it, no other thought moved through Byakuya's mind. There was no room for any other thought. There was no room for anything else at all. Except pain and overwhelming guilt. This had been wrought by his hand, his arrogance. All of it, from beginning to end.

The barrier shattered. Muramasa was in before Byakuya had a chance to react, his presence driving like a knife into Byakuya's soul. He felt Senbonzakura being sucked away, felt the aching void its going left behind, heard Aizen's triumphant shout, and still could not drag his eyes from Renji.

Other details were beginning to filter through beyond the splits and tears in the fragile skin across his shoulders and thighs. New wounds around his wrists and ankles. Bruises just visible around his neck and up onto his face. His eye, the one the whip had cut, still swollen closed and bloody.

But not dead. And not in Shugo.

Dropping to his knees, he pressed his body to Renji's, trying to help him without touching anything which might bring him more pain. Renji snarled and rounded on him at the touch, hands going for Byakuya's throat until recognition dawned across his poor bruised face. "Byakuya," he croaked, palm slapping clumsily at Byakuya's face and Renji's desperate eyes sought his. "Tell me you've come to do it. Tell me, gods, Byakuya, please."

He should. He should kill them both. Even empty of its soul, Senbonzakura's edge was sharp and the blade lay only inches from his hand. Dead they would both be beyond Aizen's machinations.

Except, who then would stand against him? Ichigo would try, Byakuya was sure of that. And what horrors would Aizen rain down on his unsuspecting head in punishment? And afterwards, when Ichigo had been destroyed, who would defend those Byakuya had sworn to protect; Karin and the shinigami of the 6th.

In his arms, Renji began fighting to get away, face twisting into denial as he realised Byakuya was not going to end his misery. A simple kidō and the strength went out of him, his body falling lax and heavy across Byakuya's lap as across the room, a familiar burst of reiatsu was followed by, "Bankai."

The air filled with the scent of steel and blood, and the sound of a thousand thousand blades slicing into flesh. Byakuya stroked Renji's head as the screams of the dying and their futile attempts to escape rang out around him. Of course now Aizen had released them from their stupors. It wouldn't do for Central 46 to die immobilised in their seats. If the madman, Kuchiki Byakuya, was killing them, they had to be running for their lives.

He would die for this, Byakuya realised. Noble or not, he would be executed on the scaffold by the Sōkyoku, his soul obliterated as punishment for his supposed crimes. And what of Renji then?

Back to Shugo to finish his sentence, this time without hope of rescue or death.

Byakuya could never be that cruel. Yet neither could he kill them both and leave Ichigo to face Aizen alone and unprepared. He needed a third way, a third option. Faced with certain death for a massacre that was not his doing and taking his hard won knowledge of Aizen's plans to the grave-

The answer was obvious. Isshin had done it. How hard could it be, and Central's senkaimon was close enough that with effort he could access it from here.

Easing Renji gently to the ground, Byakuya picked up Senbonzakura, held the blade out in front of him and pushed with everything he had. Reality tore at the same moment the steel crumbled, ripping a way into the dangai and, from there, the living world and hope.

As he hauled Renji into his arms and stepped into shunpo, Byakuya didn't bother to look back. To survive he had to keep moving forwards. He had no choice.


	19. Epilogue: Set Fire to Your Pain

Ichigo woke with the sun in his eyes and something stuck to his cheek. Squinting, he brushed whatever it was away and yanked the covers up over his head. He needed to sleep longer, like preferably another six months or something, until his arms and legs felt like they belonged to him again.

As he moved the bedding, the strong scent of wax filled his nose and for a brief second Ichigo was back in Byakuya's library, dropping dollops of sealing wax onto formal invitations so all the right people got told about him being made head of the Shiba clan.

Except, that had been days ago, hadn't it? So how come the smell was still hanging around? Had someone else been writing letters?

He was up, out of the bed and yelling for Byakuya before he really registered remembering: last night, the letter Byakuya had given Koji, all of it from the argument to the sex to the- "Fucking devious bastard!" And okay that might work to attract Byakuya's attention but probably not in a good way. "Byakuya!"

Ichigo ripped the bedroom door open and damn nearly measured his length over Koji, who was out cold on the floor outside. An attack? No, that wasn't what was going on. Koji was snoring, he was asleep. What the fuck?

Desperately, Ichigo turned back to the bedroom looking for clues. Had Byakuya already left? The spot on top of the chest where the haori always lay was empty, the kenseikan…? Ichigo wrenched open the top of the lacquered case and there it was, lying safely nestled in its bed of silk.

He snapped the lid closed again and spun round. Haori gone, kenseikan still here. What the hell did that mean? Not Kuchiki, but still captain, so something to do with the Gotei that might bring shame to his clan? Fuck it! The bastard _had_ gone to face-down Aizen! And after Ichigo had told him not to go alone!

Cursing Byakuya out under his breath, Ichigo vaulted over the bed to grab his yukuta, tripped over the obi still tied to his wrist, and ended up sprawling across the covers. Still swearing, he yanked the cloth off his wrist and tossed it aside. As he turned, he caught a glimpse of something white beneath the pillows.

"No," he hissed, and then louder again as he frantically dragged the haori out from under the quilt. "You stupid obstinate, son of a…!"

Sitting down hard with the captain's haori on his lap, Ichigo stared at it, trying to make it make some kind of logical sense. Not Aizen? Then who? Had Byakuya decided to try and break Renji out of jail? He'd never take his haori if he was gonna do that.

There'd been a letter. Ichigo had smelt wax, therefore there was a letter.

Another digging expedition turned up a heavy piece of folded paper sealed with a blob of red wax. Plain paper and a plain blob, Ichigo noted as he ripped the letter open, with no Kuchiki seal and no mark of the 6th division anywhere on either of them.

A thick fold of papers fell from inside the first. Ichigo left them where they lay and began reading. The letter was short and to the point.

_Dear Ichigo_, it began, _I cannot leave Renji to suffer the depravities of Shugo without so much as attempting to win his freedom. Since direct rescue seems impossible, I plan to confront those behind this travesty of justice and drag their corruption into the light for all to see. Once that is achieved, I am sure Renji's name will be cleared and he will be freed from this wrongful imprisonment._

_However, since this endeavour will no doubt necessitate breaking Seireitei's laws, it cannot be undertaken by a serving captain. Nor dare I retain any links to my clan, since to do so would be to bring retribution down on their undeserving heads. To avoid any such ends, I have abdicated as leader of Clan Kuchiki and leave the 6th in your hands. Enclosed you will find the acceptance papers for the captaincy. Do not hesitate. Sign them immediately!_

Ichigo dropped the letter and scrabbled for the other papers, which were exactly what Byakuya had said they were; Byakuya's resignation as captain of the 6th and papers that formally handed the division over to Ichigo, naming him as captain forthwith. Right at the bottom was space for a signature. His signature.

Without stopping to think, Ichigo scrambled off the bed, located the small writing box from the top drawer of the dresser and, after tossing a silent apology to Byakuya, spat on the stone to grind some ink. Once he had enough, he hesitated for only a second before dipping the brush and signing his full name and title: _Shiba Kurosaki Ichigo, 23rd Head of Clan Shiba,_ and, after leaving enough room for seals, added on the line below, _Captain 6th Division, Gotei 13._

That done, he placed the papers carefully to dry and picked up the letter again, eyes scanning the lines until he was back where he'd left off reading.

_All documentation pertinent to the Shiba has been left with my lawyers, who have been ordered to aid you with anything you should require. I am sure your clan will prosper under your guiding hand, however, Ichigo, remember you are not alone in this. Kyōraku and Yoruichi will, I am sure, be there should you require their advice. _

_In conclusion, should I succeed in my plans, please look after Renji for me. I would have left the 6th to him had I been certain he would be free to serve. Tell him, once he is fit and well, he should waste no time in challenging for his own division, he is more than capable. In the meantime, be there for each other. I will be thinking of you both every moment of every day._

The letter was signed, _Byakuya_, with no clan, rank or other designation.

The heavy sheet of paper swung from Ichigo's fingers as he lifted his head to stare at the door.

Resigned captaincy and clan. You didn't get much more final than that. And Ichigo couldn't even blame Byakuya for doing it. But had the gamble paid off? Was Renji actually free? There was no way of knowing until word got out.

A loud cry came from outside, followed by the crash of a door opening and a single step in the corridor. Ichigo had just enough time to leap back onto the bed and drag the covers over his lap before Hisana appeared at the bedroom door. "Taichō!" she cried. Flushed and sweating, she seemed desperate and it kicked Ichigo's worry up a notch just seeing her. "Where is he?" she demanded, her gaze shooting frantically around the room. "Tell me he's here! He's got to be. It can't be true!"

That didn't sound good. "He's not here. What's happened?" Ichigo asked, reaching for his yukuta and slipping it over his shoulders.

He made it to her side as her knees hit the floor. "They're s-saying," she gulped, obviously choking back tears, and now Ichigo was really starting to worry. This was Sagara Hisana, resident hard-ass of the 6th division. Nothing fazed her, ever. He didn't think he'd even seen her damp-eyed, let alone actually crying. "Central 46," she managed finally, lifting her head to look him in the eye, "They're saying that he slaughtered Central 46."

Ichigo stared down at her, part of him denying it was possible. This was Byakuya, he lived for the law. He would never attack Central 46, even if they had been the ones to hand down sentence on Renji. But somewhere in the back of his mind, Ichigo couldn't help remembering the words in the letter; _…this endeavour will no doubt necessitate breaking Seireitei's law._

"Did he manage to get Renji out of prison first?" he asked, mouth on auto-pilot as he thought things through.

Hisana recoiled from him. "You believe them!"

And having the same accusation he'd cast at Byakuya thrown back in his face brought Ichigo up cold. What the hell was he thinking? Of course Byakuya hadn't wiped out Central 46 in a fit of revenge, though not because he couldn't or wouldn't do it, which was what Hisana seemed to think. It was about priorities. If all of Seireitei wasn't talking about how Abarai Renji was now a free man, then Byakuya still had something left to lose. Renji. And no way would he throw everything away on simple slaughter if he hadn't got Renji out first.

Which meant Aizen had to be behind all this somehow. But how?

"Tell me what you know," Ichigo asked, mind whirling as he stalked over to the clothing chest. Byakuya wasn't that much bigger than him. One of his spare shihakushō would do for now until Ichigo could get his own.

As he dressed behind the screen, Hisana gave him the run down. She didn't have much, and what she knew was patchy. It was early days. The bodies had only been found about an hour ago, at dawn. From what she'd heard, there was no sign of the perpetrator but all signs pointed to Senbonzakura, which was why she'd had rushed to warn the captain in case anyone turned up to arrest him.

Ichigo wasn't about to argue with any of that. The damage Senbonzakura did was pretty recognisable, so at a guess it had been Byakuya's zanpakutō that had done it, presumably while Aizen had Byakuya caught in some kind of illusion like he'd done with Kyōraku's brother.

But that wasn't the worst of what she had to share. News of Central 46's demise was starting to spread to the rest of the population and, by the sounds of things, Seireitei was on the verge of descending into chaos. The sōtaichō had sent out the 1st in an attempt to keep the peace and in reply, half the divisions were out on the streets 'helping', and the other half were barricading themselves into their grounds. Gotei 13 paranoia at its finest.

"Before I left, I put everyone on alert and gave orders to reinforce the gates," Hisana explained.

"Good work," Ichigo replied, poking his head briefly out from behind the screen to check on her. She'd come round a bit as she talked and was sounding more like her practical self. Though she still looked a bit pale, standing in the doorway like she was.

She gave him a wan smile and said, "In a way its a good thing. With Central 46 all dead, I don't think they could arrest the captain even if they found him. No one has the authority to do it. Not even the sōtaichō."

Which was good for Byakuya wherever he was, but not for the rest of Seireitei. There was always a undercurrent of aggression and it wouldn't take much to bring it bubbling to the surface. Anything could do it. Like the sōtaichō trying to declare martial law without Central to back him up. If he tried that, the other captains would call foul and Ichigo had watched enough newscasts when he was alive to guess how things could go from there. The resulting violence would make a run on a division look like kiddies playtime by comparison.

And without Central 46 as a source of authority, it was going to be damn near impossible to stop. Which, Ichigo guessed, had probably been what Aizen was after when he'd taken them out.

Ichigo paused, hakama halfway up his legs, and frowned. There was one person in Soul Society who everyone else would obey without question. The trouble was, he wasn't in Seireitei and, as far as Ichigo knew, you couldn't just call him in for a home visit. But, on the other hand, as Byakuya had said at Renji's trial, the First families were his representatives in this dimension, so maybe it'd be worth a go. It had to be better than sitting back and letting everything devolve into all out war.

"Get a message to Shihouin Yoruichi and Kyōraku Shunsui," he called. "Tell them…" Shoving the front two hakama ties into his mouth while he tied the back pair into place, he thought through what he needed to say to the other clan-heads. The accusations against Byakuya were going to make selling this damn near impossible in some quarters. On the other hand, if he got the Kuchiki involved directly, it could work. And once they'd done that, they could set about talking some sense into the captains.

What was it Ukitake had said? It hadn't always been like this.

Maybe it was time to turn the clock back, claw back some of the ground Aizen had taken and get people to work together for once.

He spat out the ties and said, "Tell them to meet me at Central's compound. We need to take a stand before it's too late." One chance, to snatch victory from Aizen's hands. And if he could get enough authority to get Renji's sentence rescinded, all the fucking better. "Tell them to come as clan-heads, we're invoking the authority of the Soul King."

He must have said something right because Hisana's surprised, "Sir?" was immediately followed by, "Yes, Shiba-sama," and the breeze of her shunpo as she left. Thank fuck for that. If she hadn't argued, maybe this hair-brained scheme had a chance of working.

Stopping only to grab Byakuya's letters and tuck the kenseikan under his arm, Ichigo slung the white haori round his shoulders, and strode out after her. He couldn't afford to hang around. He had a world to change, and not much time to do it in.


End file.
